


Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor

by L_Maurel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Ancient History, Drama, Family History, Genetics, Multi, Pureblood Culture, Wizarding Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 44,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L_Maurel/pseuds/L_Maurel
Summary: In order to survive living with a family like the Dursleys and come out mentally balanced I deem it to be essential to develop quite a few Slytherin qualities. This FF is not so much about bashing but a Harry that learned the necessity to observe, ask the correct questions, find answers and connect the dots.





	1. Who are you?

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the canon divergence will take some time to build up. It is there from the very beginning but becomes more obvious as the story continues.

**Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor**

 

 

_**Chapter I: Who are you?** _

Uncle Vernon had driven them into the middle of a forest. For a little over a week now Harry had received letters, written with bright green ink on old fashioned, heavy parchment. His Aunt and Uncle still believed that he had yet to read the letter but they were wrong. Sure enough he had made the mistake of bringing the letter into the kitchen on the first day but when thirty came out of the kitchen chimney on Sunday, he had managed to snatch one and hide it under the overly large cast offs that he wore. He had read it the night before when the stayed in a gloomy, run down hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Harry and Dudley had been made to share a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley had snored while he said wide awake on the windowsill, starring down at the lights of the passing cars and wondering...

Now they were on a large rock way out in the sea that had the most miserable looking shack you could imagine perched on top of it. If that was not bad enough, an icy wind had picked up during their transition in an old rowboat. It had grown in to a full blown storm that howled around the rock, seemingly wanting to throw the shack into the sea and whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls. There were only two rooms. Dudley, currently snoring on one of the few pieces of furniture, and Harry were in the first one, with the chimney, where they also had the meager rations that Vernon had bought. After a banana and a bag of chips, each, he had tried to lit the chimney with a gleeful expression burning the monstrous amount of letters that had arrived this morning. After that they had went to bed, well Harry laid wide awake and shivering on the softest bit of floor, curled up under the thinnest and most ragged blanket they had found here.

The lighted dial on Dudley's watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told Harry he'd be eleven in a few minutes. But as the Dursley's always tended to forget his birthdays anyway, he had long come to terms with being ignored or either belittled. No, the letter and its implication were at the forefront of this mind. At first he had not dared to believe it, of course. But than he thought back to all the strange things that had happened around him while growing up, and the panic that always shone in his Aunt's eyes if magic was so much as mentioned. No, it had to be true and the letter had stated that they awaited his reply no later than the 31st. How was he to accomplish that? An owl was not an easy thing to just come by.

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty... ten... nine — maybe everything would turn back to normal, once midnight passed, as normal as it could be with the Dursley's anyway — three... two... one...

BOOM

The whole shack shivered and Harry sat upright in a flash, starring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in. With the second deafening knock his cousin, Aunt and Uncle woke up. Uncle Vernon came out of the second room, rifle in his hands.

“Who's there”, he shouted. “I warn you — I'm armed.”

There was a pause. Then...

SMASH

The door was hit with such a force that it swung clean of its hinges. A lightning outside flashed and illuminated, for seconds only, the profile of a giant man who steped through the whole that once held the door. When his face became visible in the flickering light of the candle Aunt Petunia carried, it was almost completely hidden behind a long shaggy mane of dark hair and a wild tangled beard, but you could still make out his black beetle-like eyes glinting back under all that hair that brushed along the ceiling. A moment later he had bowed lifted the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. He turned around to look at them all.

“Couldn't make a cup o' tea, could yeah? It's not been an easy journey...”

He strode over to the sofa were Dudley sat frozen with fear.

“Budge up, yeh great lump”, said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked in fear and ran to hide behind his mother who was by know crouching, terrified behind Uncle Vernon.

The conversation that now followed was be something that Harry would never forget in his life. The giant who introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds, told him what he had speculated to be true. His explanations about Hogwarts and how his parents really died were accompanied by several, rather impolite remarks to the Dursley's and something warm to eat and drink, along with the very first birthday cake he remembered. Watching Hagrid putting the Dursley's into their place, while sitting at a warming fire with hot tea, finally feeling comfortable and being rid of the hunger cramps, was not only very amusing but also immensely gratifying. For the first time tables were reversed and his so called family got what they deserved, in Harry's opinion. He had a hard time holding back a very big grin and hid it behind his cup or a contemplating frown. He had so many questions he had wanted to ask right away, despite having puzzled out some of it and playing dump as he used to do in the presence of the Dursley's, but it was late and both were tired.

This night he dreamed again of a tall, thin, black dressed man with no hair, white skin and glowing red eyes. A woman with auburn hair cried out as a green light hit her and than that man shot the green light at him, too, from a thin stick. In this dream he also remembered hearing a motorcycle, though this one was curiously enough, flying through the air and he remembered an old man with a very long white beard calling him Harry Potter. He had this dream numerous times before but never had he been able to see an elderly, stiff looking woman transforming into a cat and a weeping giant with wild hair and beard. And even though this was a dream, the cry of Aunt Petunia woke him up. Only, this time he saw the door of Privet Drive standing open and two bottles of milk right next to him.

With this he woke up for real and stretched extensively a little to get all the kinks out of his body from sleeping on the wooden floor. Luckily Hagrid had given him his monstrous cloak, so at least he had been warm. It was still dawn and the giant of a man was snoring loudly on the sofa that had broken under his weight. An other look over to the window made sure that it was unlikely that anyone would be up soon and so he started exploring. Hagrid's cloak had many pockets and after peaking into it first he carefully emptied one at time and then put everything back after inspecting it first. Besides moldy old dog biscuits, slug pellets, peppermint humbugs, teabags and a package of other animal treats, he could not identify, he found different types of keys, binoculars, gloves, parchment, quills, ink, several parts and bits of plants, a bag with strange coins and an unsealed letter. And while Harry knew very well, that it went against all morals he opened and read it.

What he found surprised him. Never, not even in his wildest dreams had he imagined that the Philosopher's Stone could actually exist. If this famed stone, that was a legend among non-magical people, was the same thing, that he believed it to be...

Harry carefully put the letter back into its former place. The only reason he had even dared to ask this was because he wanted to make sure, that it was not something concerning him and the headmaster. Hagrid had shown just how loyal he was to that man when the Dursley's insulted him, by giving Dudley a pig tail. That, Harry did not mid very much but Dumbledore was also responsible for placing him with that family. The headmaster had placed him with a family that hated him from the moment he arrived and treated him like cheap labor. Their son took great pleasure in beating him up and, as if that was not enough, they told he whole neighborhood that he was the son of an unemployed drunk and that had let Petunia's little sister astray. According to them his mum was little better than a common whore and had married 'that useless Potter boy' because she was already pregnant. Vernon and Petunia span that story further claiming Harry was on his best way to end up the same way despite their best efforts.

With the new knowledge that he had obtained from last night's discussion Harry began to think things over. He needed to know more about the workings of the wizarding world. What happened to his home? Where were his parents buried? He had actually asked that question when he was little and had gotten a sound slap for it, which is why he never bothered to do it again. How would he pay for his school things? Who exactly was the murderer of his parents and who was Dumbledore? Of course he was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the acceptance letter said as much, but why would he involve himself with the live of one single student? Did he do the same things for other?

Tap. Tap.

The newly acknowledged wizard was brought from his musings. He looked around the cabin for the source of that noise. Finally the young man's eyes caught the Owl outside of the window. So, Harry stood up and let it in. It dropped, what seemed to be a newspaper on Hagrid and then flew to his coat and began hacking on it.

“Hey, stop it.” Harry tried to shoo the bird away. But the owl did not budge.

“Hagrid, there is an owl.”

The man that had started to to wake up when the paper role hit him mumbled something into his beard.

“Pardon?”

“Pay him.”

“Pay? The bird?”

“He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets.”

Harry looked back to the brown owl. It indeed held the pouch with he odd bronze, silver and golden coins, that he had found earlier among the other things, in it's talons while hacking on it. Therefore he went over and knelt down, carefully extending a hand towards the bird. The owl did indeed stop in its actions and instead stared at him expectantly.

“Give him five Knuts”, said Hagrid sleepily.

“Which ones are those?”

“The little bronze ones.”

After finishing his task by putting the required amount into the small pouch tied to the owl's leg and bringing it over to the window he turned towards Hagrid. The giant of a man was sitting on the sofa, yawning and stretching.

“Best we hurry, Harry, gotta lot's to do today.”

“Hagrid?” Paying the owl had brought the question of money again to the forefront of his mind.

“Mm?”

“I haven't got any money and you heard Uncle Vernon last night...”

Hagrid stopped for a moment in tying his shoe laces. Then he shock his head.

“Don't worry about that. D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?”

“I wouln't know. I haven't seen so much as a picture of them and my relatives only told me lies. They could have taken it away for all I know.”

“Nah, impossible. Kept their gold in Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have some brakefast 'ts goin' ter be a long day.”

As they sad down for their breakfast Harry made sure to extract some more information out of the older man. After all, how was he to survive in a completely different society, where he was most likely famous and everyone knew more about his family than he did himself. He did not want to start with a new chance by committing a faux pas.

“Wizards have banks?”

“Only one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

“What are goblins?”

“They run the bank. Yeh'd be mad ter try and rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Ther down right nasty. Had a couple o' wars with'em. But 'tis good, too. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe – 'cept maybe Hogwars. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly at saying this. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you – getting stuff from Gringotts – knows he can trust me, see.”

Scraping together his meager belongings he followed Hagrid out of the door as the giant left. The small path down to were the boat lay was wet and slippery. His old, worn out trainers had no profile left and holes. The trousers, as always, were fare to large and got caught under his shoes at time. That and the splashes that ensured when Hagrid stepped carelessly through the puddles on the ground ensured that he was half drenched by the time they set down in the boat, which, too, had a lot of water on the ground.

“How did you get here last night?” Harry asked when he noticed that there was no other boat around besides the one which Uncle Vernon rented yesterday, the one they were currently sitting in.

“Flew.”

“How?”

Hagrid blushed under his beard. Apparently he was not supposed to do what he did in order to come to the lonely house on top of the rock out in the sea.

“A motorcycle. T'was charmed ter fly. 'S not really allow'd 'cause the Muggles could stumble over those things. Ministry's controlling all that and has a whole department for misuse o' Muggle artifacts. Imagin' what would happen if a Muggle bought a carpet that suddenly starts ter fly.”

“I'll be keeping that to myself then”, Harry assured.

“I'm not s'posed ter use magic now that I've got yer. Seem's a shame ter row, thought. If I was ter – er – speed things up a bit...” Hagrid started carefully eying Harry who interrupted him then.

“I wouldn't mention to anyone that you did magic even if you are forbidden from doing it. But you couldn't do it anyway.” He pointed his finger towards the land. “The fisher boots are leaving the harbor. They are probably Muggles, and this is a row boat. If anyone sees it moving without the rows being used it means trouble with the Ministry, doesn't it?”

“But somme look the same as this an' they're moving without rows, too.”

“Well, yes, but they also have a small motor at the back. It's the box that seems to be hanging into the water. Not only that but a motor makes a specific sound. We saw and heard them yesterday and they all were different”, Harry explained patiently like he was talking to a five-year-old. He got the distinctive impression that wizards didn't know anything about Muggles, or at least not a lot.

Hagrid looked into the same direction and frowned. Grumbling he lifted the rows and put them to use. Shure, Harry would have loved to see more magic at work but he reasoned that it would not be worth it. He offered to row part of the way but as expected Hagrid just waved him of.

“So, I guess students are not able to practice magic out of the magical world.”

“Nah, can't practice magic outside o' school 'till yer o' age. That's sev'nteen.”

“You said there was a Ministry. What does it do?”

“Mostly messin' things up. Their main job is to keep things from the Muggles. But if yer askin' me, the Minister is the biggest bungler there is. They wanted Dumbledore fer the job but he'd never leave Hogwarts. So old Cornelius Fudge got it and he's peltin' Dubledore with owls every mornin' askin' fer advice.”

“What does this mean?”, Harry asked pulling out his letter and started reading. “'Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards'. The last one sounds pretty self explanatory but what is that all about? I thought he was the headmaster.”

“Well, yer see. Dumbledore is the greatest wizard alive. He defeated Grindelwald, a very dark wizard about fifty years ago. That's why he got the Order of Merlin, First Class. It's fer great achievement. An' the Chief Warlock is the wizard that presides the Wizengamot. Our highest court. An' the Surpreme Mugwump is the head of the International Confederation of Wizards. But yer goin' to learn all about that in History o' Magic.”

“And where do we get to buy all of that.” Harry waved the second sheet of parchment that he had taken from the letter. “I've never even heard of a shop selling cauldrons.”

“Diagon Ally. It's a shopin' district for wizards. Gringotts's also there. Actually Gringotts goes hundreds of miles under London. That's why its the safest place, besides Hogwarts, I say. Gotta be mad an' tryin' ter rob it.”

“Why?”

“Huh, oh, I told yer about the goblins and then there's spells – enchantments. They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yer gotta find yer way in the labyrinth o' the tunnels. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat.”

For the next several minutes Harry thought in silence about what he had heard so far. There was a lot of new information and it kept coming. If this went on he would never get a grasp on this whole new society. How was he to make up for ten years. The headmaster had to be a nutcase to have him grow up not knowing anything. What if he accidentally insulted someone just because the wizards had some strange custom that he did not know about. They were apparently completely separate from the normal, no, from the Muggle world. There were laws, and a different currency, and who new what else.

While he was still deep in thought they reached the small habor and left the boat. In a moment of clear thoughts Harry remembered to inform the man who had rented them the hut and row boat that his Aunt, Uncle and cousin where sill out there and then went on with Hagrid. He had little doubt that he had to return by the end of the day and there was no reason to make his relatives more angry than they were undoubtedly, already going to be.

On their way through the small harbor to the train station people were staring. Harry, by now used to Hagrid's size, was reminded that the other was twice the high of an average human. Not that Harry could blame the passerbys who stopped to gaff. The giant of a man kept pointing out perfectly ordinary things. More than once Harry wanted to hide behind his hands and it took quite a bit of effort not to say anything, though his face reddened with shame.

As a least effort to keep Hagrid from making an even bigger spectacle out of himself he tried to restart their conversation.

“Hagrid, did you say they have _dragons_ at Gringotts”, he asked, making sure to keep his voice low. That did the trick.

“Well, yeah”, Hagrid responded in kind. “Crikey, I'd like a dragon.”

“You'd _like_ one?”

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid.” Hagrid beamed at that thought. “Told yeh, I'm the Games Keeper. It's my job ter look after all kinds o' magical creatures. Hogwarts' got its own heard of thestrales. Trained them – here we go.”

They reached the station. Hagrid who had no idea how to work the Muggle currency gave the bills to Harry. The eleven-year-old bought the tickets and within five minutes they were off on the first train to London. The downside was that people in the train started to star even more as Hagrid stet down, occupying two seats, and pulling out a giant set of knitting needles. His attempt of what Harry guessed was supposed to be a pullover of some sort looked like a huge canary-yellow circus tent. As it drew a lot of attention to the two of them Harry did not dare to ask if he could read the newspaper even if he was dying to know more about this whole new world. He had briefly seen the moving title picture when he got the paper from the owl this morning. So he pulled out the letter again an reread the items that they would be buying in London.

 

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_UNIFORM_

_First-year students will require:_

_1\. Three sets of plain work robe (black)_

_2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' cloths should carry name tags._

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

 

At this Harry looked up from his letter.

“Hagrid, why's all of the wardrobe black. Don't you wear any other colors.”

“'Course we do. It's just yer uniform. Yeh can wear anythin' yeh want. An' some of the old families have their own colors for formal wear. An' than yer gettin' the house colors. There red an' gold, blue an' bronze, yellow an' black or green an' silver. But yer only get that after the sortin'.”

“Sorting? Hose colors?”

“Yer goin' to be sorted into a house at Hogwarts. There's four of them. Gryffindore – that's red an' gold–, Ravenclaw – blue an' bronze –, Hufflepuff – yellow an' black –, an' Slytherin – green an' silver.”

“How are we sorted?”

Hagrid smiled secretly at this, his black, beetle-like twinkled.

“That's a secret fer anyone who comes to Hogwarts for the first time. No one's telling anyone who's not sorted yet, see.” Harry frowned. He did not like being thrust unprepared into a situation. It made him anxious. “Don't worry too much. There's lots of Muggle-born students coming to Hogwarts who no nothing about being a wizard or witch. Your parents were in Gryffindor. Both o' them. It's the house of the brave.” Hagrid tried to assure him.

“What of the others”, Harry asked cautiously. He did not consider himself a brave person.

“Yeh see, Ravenclaw is a bit on the bookish side an' has it's fair share of snobs an' rule stickers. Everyone says that the Hufflepuffs are a bunch o' duffers but I think they're hard working, loyal an' make some pretty good friends, but also a bit on the boring side.”

“I bet I'm in Hufflepuff”, said Harry gloomily.

“Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin”, said Hagrid darkly. “There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-know-who was one.”

“He was?”

“Years an' years ago”, Hagrid confirmed.

“What's his real name anyway? I mean, Lord Voldemort”, here Hagrid shuddered and shot a nasty, dark glare at Harry who ignored it and continued, “does not sound like a real name. It sounds a bit French, I think. We started French in school.”

“Dun'no. Never thought about it. Doubt anyone knows anyway”, Hagrid said in a way that made it clear that he did not want to discuss this topic further. So Harry continued with his list.

 

_COURSE BOOKS_

_All students should have a copy of the following:_

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_

_A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_

_Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffing_

_A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_

_Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 

_OTHER EQUIPMENT_

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set of glass and crystal phials_

_1 telescope set_

_1 brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

 

“Do they have the same books every year?”

Hagrid looked over the list and brummed.

“Some o' them. Why?”

“Did someone look if some of my parents stuff was salvageable? You said they left me some money but it has to last all through. I suppose I could use their old books instead of wasting money to buy new ones.”

“Don't worry yeh have enough. The Potters are an old family. They weren't the richest but they were well of. You've got a trust fund 'till yer o' age an' they paid fer Hogwarts.”

Harry had only ever been to London once and that visit ended in a disaster and earned him his longest punishment of staying in the cupboard under the stairs up until now. That was during Duddley's eleventh birthday. Mrs. Figg, a rather strange old lady with an incredible amount of cats who always took him when the Dursleys went out without him, had broken a leg, and so he got to visit the zoo for the first time ever. He had sat through a car ride next to his overly fat cousin and his friend, Piers Polkiss, trying is best to keep his mouth shut, looking out of the window and generally trying not to be noticed. Somehow he managed. Once inside the zoo he always kept a little distance between himself and the Dursleys. Of course Uncle Vernon had taken him aside, shortly before they had left and reminded him that he would not like if anything strange, anything at all, were to happen during that trip. It did indeed go quite well. He managed tho save his Aunt and Uncle from spending more money on him than absolutely needed by convincing the nice lady who sold ice cream that he couldn't eat cold things because they made his teeth hurt. He even managed to get a dessert at lunch because Dudley threw a tantrum when his knickerbocker glory did not have enough ice cream on top. Uncle Vernon bought him a new one and Harry was allowed to finish the first. Unfortunately after lunch things got down hill. While Dudley and Piers were once again too captured by the animals to start their favorite past time, hitting Harry, they visited the reptile house. While at first they were fascinated by all of the different types of creatures Dudley and Piers became increasingly whiny once they recognized that the lizards and snakes that slithered and crawled behind the glass did not care for the visitors. And after stopping to hammer on the window behind which a python was sleeping Harry could not stop himself from stepping in front of the glass and murmur an apology. That turned out to be a big mistake for the snake somehow seemed to understand him. Just as he got over the shock and started striking up a conversation with the deadly animal his cousin came running, pushed him rudely aside and made him land on the stone floor. The next things happened to fast and Harry had little recollection of them. At first Dudley was in front of the now moving Boa Constrictor than he suddenly fell into the tank. The next moment the giant snake slithered past him, thanking him and went on about going to Brazil. When he turned back towards his cousin the window that had vanished, was once again in place.

He was pulled out of his musings, when Hagrid suddenly moved. They had reached London and even though Harry was overwhelmed by the underground network Hagrid did not seem to have any trouble navigating them. He did not even hit his head once in one of the trains. They changed tubes several times and finally climbed a broken-down escalator, while Hagrid grumbled about Muggles and not knowing how they managed without magic.

As they reached the crowded street somewhere in the middle of the city Hagrid's size finally turned out to be more of a blessing than a curse. He easily parted the crowds; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops, restaurants, boutiques, cinemas but not one looked as if they would sell magical items. Harry already started doubting when the suddenly stopped at a nondescript shop. It looked tiny and grubby; and the people hurrying by did not even glance at it. If Hagrid had not pointed it out Harry, too, would have missed it. In fact he got the feeling that only the two of them were actually able to see it.

“This is it. The Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place.”

When they walked in everyone seemed to know Hagrid. The chatter had stopped when they entered. They waved and smiled at him and the bartender went as far as to reach for a glass asking if he would like the usual.

“Can't Tom. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid clamped his big beefy hand on Harry's shoulder, making his knees buckle.

“Good Lord”, exclaimed the bartender peering at Harry. “Could it be..” He did not finish his sentence but his shock alerted all of the other costumers towards Harry's presence. The whole pub was now completely silent.

“Bless my soul”, he continued as he hurried from behind the bar. “Harry Potter... what an honor.” He rushed towards the preteen and sized his hand tears in his eyes. “Welcome back Mr. Potter, welcome back.”

Harry just stood there for a moment not knowing what to say or do. From the way Hagrid had told his story he had deducted that his name might be known amongst wizards but he had not expected a reaction like this. Everyone was looking at him. They were probably just as surprised as him, if the old witch who continued puffing on her pipe that had long gone out was anything to go by.

“Er, Mr.” Harry started through the great scraping of chairs that started the next moment.

“Oh, it's just Tom, Mr. Potter.”

“I don't know what happened and if anything it probably should be my parents that should be remembered. Hagrid told me the real story about my parents only yesterday. He said that I was only fifteen months old. So it is impossible for me to have done anything.”

That stopped all the others in their tracks.

“If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Potter”, a white haired witch found her voice first.

“Er, I'm sorry, but I did not get your name”, Harry interrupted. It was getting really annoying that everyone seemed to know his name. How was he supposed to buy all his school supply if this continued or attend Hogwarts in peace.

“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter”, she hurried. “How came that you didn't know about your parents.”

Harry had half expected a question like this and made a show of frowning, like he thought it would be common knowledge as well. It gave him a split second to think up something. A lie wouldn't do. He did not know enough about how the wizarding world worked so he opted on staying as close to the truth as possible. It had worked with the teachers at primary school why not now.

“I grew up with my Muggle relatives. They might not have known how to explain it. And there's also the fact that they do not like anything connected to magic.” Well, he just hoped that Hagrid had enough sense not to add his two cent to it. The man, as far as he got to know him, was as supple as an elephant in a china shop. However, he was lucky and he kept quiet only mumbling into his beard. He probably understood at least that Harry did not want anyone knowing about the Dursleys.

As the ice was broken once again everyone seemed to push forward again. Everyone was trying to shake his hand and if not for Hagrid's hand that was still resting on his shoulder he would have fled from the pub. Left with the only option to shrink against the huge figure next to him he pulled the large sleeve and turned away from everyone.

“Can we go on, please”, he asked pale faced before anyone could really grab his hand as both of his held onto Hagrid's coat. He instinctively started hating all of them. They only wanted some famous boy they did not know at all. They, the wizarding world, did not actually care anyway. Otherwise he would not have been forced to stay with the Dursleys. He did not believe that it was allowed or condoned to keep children inside a cupboard. He knew for fact that it was not the case in the normal, no Muggle world.

Hagrid, however, did not seem to get it this time around. He was to busy beaming at the crowd and, therefore, Harry was forced to endure the line of people introducing themselves. That was until a pale young man made his way forward. Harry noticed that one of his eyes was twitching and he was oddly enough wearing a turban.

“Professor Quirrell, didn't notice you at first”, boomed Hagrid as a greeting. “Harry, this is Professor Quirrel. He'll be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter”, stammered the Professor, while grasping Harry's outstretched Hand, “c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine. What subject are you teaching, Professor Quirrell?”

“D-Defense Against D-D-Dark Arts”, muttered his future teacher, as if he would rather not think about it and for a moment he looked like he wanted to add an afterthought but continued differently. “You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I s-suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a n-new b-bock on v-vampires, m-myself.” Though, it appeared as if the very thought of them terrified him.

“Is their any additional reading you would recommend”, Harry asked in order to keep the others away.

“Hogwarts has a v-very l-large and w-well equipped l-library. T-There is n-no n-need t-to b-buy extra b-books yet.”

“Thank you, Professor”, answered Harry recognizing that the other wanted to end their brief conversation. Luckily Hagrid, too, decided that this was a good moment to get going and ushered Harry forward. They left through the back door into a small walled courtyard. There was nothing there besides the trashcans and a few weeds.

“Told yeh, yer famous, didn't I”, grinned Hagrid. “Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh – mind you, he usually does.”

“Is he always this nervous?”

“Oh, yeah. Poor bloke's got a brilliant mind and was good while he stayed ter his book. But then he took a year off ter get some experience. They say that he ran into a bit o' trouble with a hag and some vampires in the Black Forrest. He's been like that ever since. Scarred of the students, scarred of his own subject – now, where's me umbrella.”

Harry almost snorted. How was he supposed to teach the subject if he was scarred of the students, let alone his own subject. He shock his head. The wizards seemed more and more crazy to him. First, the made him famous for something he probably didn't even do and now the got teachers like that.

Lost in his thoughts he almost missed Hagrid counting the stones tapping them with the pink umbrella three times. Moments after the bricks started quivering and wriggling. A hole appeared and it started getting wider and wider as more and more bricks moved until they formed an archway – large enough even for Hagrid – that lead to a cobbled street, twisting and turning out of sight.

“Welcome to Diagon Ally.”

 


	2. Prejudices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention: that all characters etc do belong to J. K. Rowling and as I own nothing, I also make no profits.

**Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor**

 

 

**Chapter II: Prejudices**

Harry could not help but stare in amazement. How was this possible? How did all of that fit into the Middle of London without anyone noticing? How... Harry backtracked his thoughts and almost hit himself for his stupidity. Magic. Of course. Well, the concept was rather strange and fairly new. Apparently Newtons Laws did not seem to apply at all.

“Hagrid, I realize that magic makes it”, Harry waved vaguely indicating the whole ally”, all possible. But how can magic make it possible? I mean, we are in the middle of London. Doesn't anyone recognize that there's a whole ally here?”

“Well, see”, Hagrid sheepishly scratched his head, looking for an answer he probably did not know himself. “Muggles can't see the entrances. They just don't realize it's there. That's Muggle repelling charms. An' than we got wizard space. Not sure how that works. But can make a place much bigger than it is.”

Harry blinked.

“Doses that go for things too?” Harry waited for Hagrid;s confirming nod. “Does that mean that I could charm a day pack in a way that it would fit in all my Hogwarts stuff.”

“Is not that simple. Yeh won't learn stuff like that in yer fist five years, or so. An' yeh can't extend it unlimited. But yeh can buy trunks and bags that are charmed an' everything.”

Making sure that his frig covered the scar on his forehead he stepped into the ally, sighing. What would he give for owning a base cap now. Ogling wizards and witches doing their shopping he speculated whether it would be good to get an additional set of normal robes for day wear and most importantly a hat. This way he could always cover up the scar. On the other hand, nicking some of Aunt Petunia's make up sounded much more practical seeing some of the monstrosities that quite a few dared to wear.

Next to him, Hagrid misread his ogling and thought that he wanted to have a closer look at the different things that the shops offered. Not that that was wrong. Harry had been looking at some of the offered merchandise recognizing cauldrons and a telescope from his list. But Hagrid pointed out that he would have enough time for that after his visit to Gringotts.

Nevertheless, Harry had trouble taking his eyes from a shop that went by the name Eeylops' Owl Emporium. His attention had been drawn to it ever since he heard a very discontent sounding hoot from one of the owls that sat on various places, followed by a very annoyed voice shouting “blasted bird, I should plug your feathers or just stuff you”. The snowy owl the shop owner had spoken to did not seem at all impressed by that treat and let out a mocking hoot before simply turning away from the man who huffed and turned back to his customers. The scene caused Harry to smile, though not for long. As if the owl had sensed his staring it turned its amber eyes at him. It looked almost reproachful, like it was saying “don't you dare laugh at the things I've to put up with”. Ever since, they held a little staring match that only ended when Hagrid steered him onward.

On the rest of their way Harry made sure to remember the places that sold something which looked like it belonged to the list that he had, adding to his mental map of the ally. When they reached the bank he had found at least half of the shops they would have to visit later. Though he was sure that he would have visit this place at least a dozen times more to finally get all of it. It was simply to overcrowded with all of the small vendors on the street in addition to the shops.

Gringotts turned out to be a sparkling clean, white, marble-like building that reminded Harry slightly of the pictures of the old Greek temples he had seen in his history books. It towered over the other little shops and made them look slightly shabby. All in all, Harry got the feeling that it was build to impress. The two story houses looked rather crooked and shabby in comparison. Two small, alien looking figures, dressed in identical uniforms of scarlet and gold, stood besides the huge magnificent bronze doors who Hagrid confirmed were goblins. They were both about a head shorter than even himself and considering that he had always been the shortest in his year that, Harry thought, was saying something. Otherwise they looked had rather sharp features, pointed beards. Their noses where rather long to, just as their fingers and, judging by shoe size, their toes. Their skin was darker and reminded him of dusty brown earth. At first they looked slightly comical in their uniforms. Though when they passed the slightly bowing goblin who opened the door for them, Harry saw a very sharp and attentive glaze. He knew instinctively that he would never mess with them. They did not seem the kind who appreciated jokes and the engraved words on the second, silver doors strengthened Harry's impression.

 

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

 

“Like I said. Yeh'd be mad ter tryin' an' rob it”, said Hagrid.

An other two goblins opened the doors and the two of them entered a large marble hall. On each side was a long counter that was long enough to give at least a hundred goblins enough space to work. Some of them scribbled in thick, leather bound ledgers, others weighted coins, precious gems, examined slightly glittering stones for their actual value. Harry also saw a counter that had a shield announcing the current exchange rate for Muggle money and was surprised to see that it was that much of a difference, at least in numbers.

“Morning”, greeted Hagrid a free goblin. “We've come ter get some money outta Mr. Harry Potters vault.”

“And does Mr. Potter have his key, sir?”

Key, was Harry about to question. Just as Hagrid said that he had it somewhere and started looking in his pockets. He nearly checked all of them until he finally found the little elusive one in his inner breast pocket. Harry almost snorted. He had found that one when he inspected Hagrid's coat. Then again, it would not do to admit to doing something as that. On the other hand, this was the very same pocket that held the letter he had read and, to top it all, it was the only one neatly closed with a sip. Seeing the Gringotts emblem that was at the doors he really should have remembered it. On the other hand, maybe not, he did have to work through a lot of information. How the headmaster could have ever thought it a good idea to grow up without any knowledge about the Wizarding world was beyond him – perhaps he was getting senile in his old age?

“There's the little devil”, exclaimed a rather proud Hagrid. While the goblin looked clearly displeased at the sheer amount of disorganization. “Oh, an' this is from Professor Dumbledore. It's about the You-know-what in vault...” Hagrid did not get a chance to finish that as he was interrupted by a clearly impatient and outraged goblin. Honestly, who in the world was stupid enough to announce the vault number of a precious artifact? Harry was torn between amusement and wanting to bash his head against the counter. He was certain that he would not trust Hagrid to guard his secrets no matter how nice of a fellow the giant man was.

“That seems to be in order”, interrupted the goblin before the vault number could be blurted out by Hagrid. “I will have someone take you down to both vaults”, he threw a quick pricing look at Harry and added like an afterthought, “separately. Griphook!”

Yet an other goblin led them down a couple of steps at the end of the hall and through the largest off all the doors leading from it. Harry had half expected to see more of the riches displayed so far. As it turned out however it looked like the entrance to mines. They had stepped into a narrow stone passage. The torches on the wall kept flickering, indicating a slight movement in the air. A second goblin had joined them and now both whistled sharply and two carts came hurtling up the tracks towards them.

Harry and Griphook got on the first cart and left Hagrid, who had a bit of trouble getting into the small vehicle, with the second goblin behind. For the first time Harry was alone in the Wizarding world and it was exhilarating. It was not just the ride which went at break-neck speed through a labyrinth of tunnels. Harry tried to remember the way it took but it was an impossible feat. And he was sure the cart went over one cross at least twice to throw of anyone trying. However it worked, he was absolutely sure tat this was better than any roller-coaster Dudley had ever described.

The air got colder and damper as the cart plunged them lower and lower. At some point Harry believed to see a flame in one of the crossing passages but the cart was to fast to confirm whether Hagrid's suspicion about dragon guarding Gringotts' vaults was true. they passed through a carve with an underground lake that was filled with huge stalactites and stalagmites.

Deciding it would be better to learn more about the dealings with the bank instead of just admiring the new scenery Harry turned towards the goblin. He took a deep breath to collect thoughts and then addressed Griphook.

“Mr. Griphook, what is the correct procedure to address someone from the bank?”

The goblin looked actually startled for a brief moment. Had he done something wrong?

“Just Griphook, Mr. Potter. Goblins do not have two names. It depends on the matter. What concern do you intend to address?”

“I've only gotten to know that I'm a wizard yesterday evening. I also did not know I possessed any money, nor do I know who had my key. Rubeus Hagrid brought it with him.”

The goblins features hardened and became darker as Harry spoke. He mumbled something Harry could not understand as it seemed to be an other language and scowled fiercely.

“In short, Mr. Potter, it means you know nothing.”

Now it was Harry's turn to frown but he just nodded. It would not do to interrupt the short time he had for information gathering even though he strongly wanted to protest. Of course he knew something. He was not dump and he had way better grades than his oaf of a cousin.

“I'll explain our currency once we reach the vault then.”

“In the Muggle world you have to get bank statements. Does Gringotts have those, too?”

“Yes, they are send out monthly via owl.”

“My guardians always complained about the additional cost I'm causing. Did a family by the name of Vernon and Petunia Dursley ever receive money from my parents vault?” Harry honestly doubted it but he had to make sure. If the Dursleys knew he had any money they would probably just try and take it, no matter whether it was magical or not.

“That is something you have to ask the account manager of the Potter vaults. The vault number six hundred eighty-seven is the trust fund”, Griphook explained as the cart got slower and finally stopped in front of a small door in the passage wall.

The two got out and Harry had to steady his knees for a second. As fun as the ride had been. Suddenly standing again after all the fast movement was an unusual experience. He mused if he should try a roller-coaster at some point, now that he could most likely afford it – just for comparisons shake of course.

Meanwhile, Griphook had opened the door and impatiently motioned him to get in as Harry could only star at the mounds of gold coins, columns of silver and heaps of bronze. When Harry entered he also found a small, dusty and old fashioned bag, that looked like it belonged somewhere into the middle ages. He picked it up and used his thump to clean the metal ornament on the front, but winced when he cut himself on a small but very sharp edge. A drop of his blood fell on it. The effect was curious. The ornament glowed shortly in a dark forest green and shortly after the whole bag looked not only clean but brand new.

“Griphook, what is this and what did just happen?”

“A money bag. It will magically refill with a small allowance set by your parents. Now, the coins: twenty-nine bronze Knuts equal a silver Sickle and seventeen of those equal a golden Galleon.”

“Hm, and a Galleon is roughly five pounds, thank you Griphook.” He took the small bag, that turned out to be quite a bit larger on the inside and counted a slightly larger amount of money. If he did not use it all, he could very well use the rest of it next year without having to return down here, Harry decided and stepped out of the vault.

“Is there a way of contacting the account manager on a short notice? I would like to know what happened to my parents stuff and if there schoolbooks are reusable. There's no need for wasting money if I can't earn any yet”, inquired Harry as he got his key back. He would have to obtain a chain for it but for now he would put it into he pouch. As he was about to do this Griphook pointed towards the ornament that was actually his family crest and said that there was a small space behind it and could be retrieved with a drop of blood after it sealed itself shut.

As it would, Hagrid had arrived just before them and clumsily climbed out of his cart. He was swaying and looked rather green, mumbling and cursing slightly under his breath about speed, stupid carts and goblins for not being able to slow those torture machinery down. The big man used the man for a moment and looked at Harry.

“Yeh, got everythin', Harry?”

“I'll be back in a moment Hagrid. We just want to take a look if my parents stuff is here”, Harry answered smiling, just barely suppressing a tiny bit of schadenfreude.

“This way please, Mr. Potter”, Griphook interrupted any further conversation and they were of through another door.

Harry followed the goblin up a few sets of stairs and through several corridors until they stopped at an office door. Griphook made him wait for a moment and then entered. Harry could hear him and an other goblin converse fast in the language that Griphook had used before. It took a few minutes in which it got rather heated before it finally stopped and Griphook got out again to get Harry inside.

“Mr. Potter, the account manager Grimclaw.” He introduced and left with a short bow.

“Mr. Potter”, the goblin greeted. His hair was completely white and his skin had a slightly grayish sheen to it. Harry got the impression that he was rather old at least in comparison to Griphook who had had salt and pepper hair and a lot less wrinkles.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, account manager Grimclaw.” But the old goblin just waved Harry of and pointed towards a pollster seat opposite to his own at a very large ornate desk. The details carved into the massive dark wood showed scenes of goblins mining, forging, others showed carves or just mines. It was a breathtaking piece of work and Harry would have liked to have some time to appreciate it fully. However, what little experience he had with the goblin told him not to waste any time and so he forced his eyes back towards the goblin, as he sat down.

“Goblins, Mr. Potter, as you may have noticed do not appreciate being deceived or tricked. It lead to quite many wars between your and my kin, as we have a different understanding of belonging. Griphook told me of what transpired and we came to the conclusion that your key must have been with Albus Dumbledore, the current headmaster. Rest assured that no money was taken out of that vault. It was inactive until you visited it twenty-seven minutes ago.” He paused shortly which Harry took as a sign to nod signaling that he understood everything so far.

“However, Albus Dumbledore should not have been in possession of your key. He is not your guardian, neither are the people you mentioned to Griphook. Your parents named Sirius Orion Black your godfather. He was put into prison and is therefore unable to look after you or your financial affairs. As the Black vaults have not been confiscated and you are named his heir should he have no children of his own, we have to look into that as well.”

“If I may interrupt you, Grimclaw. Why was he imprisoned?”

“Your parents used an enchantment to hide. It is called Fidelius Charm. It can hide a location in plain sight by allowing only one person, the secret keeper, to remember where it is. After the attack on your parents and yourself, Albus Dumbledore testified that Sirius Black was the secret keeper. Based on that statement he was caught and thrown into prison.”

Had Harry not been listening so intently he would have flipped. Someone betrayed his parents. They could still be alive if not for that person. But the tone in which the goblin spoke was alarming. Something did not add up.

“You said he was imprisoned based on one testimony. What of the trial.”

Grimclaw grinned, all of his slightly crooked, yellowish but sharp teeth showing. That had obviously been the correct question. Was he testing Harry? The eleven-year-old frowned. If that assumption was correct he most certainly did not appreciate it.

“Did he betray my parents?”

“The vaults are still open and access-able to Lord Black.”

If this continued he would prematurely develop wrinkles. What was that supposed to mean? Would the vaults automatically close if he had committed the crime? How come the goblins did not work together with the Ministry? And for God's shake, why was it suddenly Lord Black?

“I apologize but I do not comprehend what you are trying to tell me – besides Gringotts and the Ministry not being on best terms?”

“No, you wouldn't. However, your observation is correct. A Lord is no longer recognized by his title if he is convicted in a trial.”

“So there never was one.”

“Mr. Potter, your parents sent a small package to Gringotts on the 26th of November, six days before they were murdered. As a trust vault is not supposed to hold any objects it was put into the family vault which you can only gain access to with your guardians permission once you have passed your OWL's. Otherwise you would inherit it upon your seventeenth birthday. The only further instruction we had was to send the package back to them shortly after your second birthday. As they died before that, it was never done.”

This visit turned out to be a mayor headache, no a migraine, decided Harry as he rubbed his temples and once again cursed the headmaster for leaving him in the Muggle world. There were just to many strange customs and almost certainly just as many obscure laws that he did not know about but which Grimclaw seemed to want to use – that would probably profit Gringotts in the end. He leaned back into the chair and pondered.

“Let me summarize: Everyone believes my godfather, Lord Black, to be the secret keeper and betrayer of my parents but you think you may have evidence stating otherwise but you never told the Ministry because they wouldn't listen anyways.” Grimclaw nodded and leaned back himself. “I can't go into the Potter Family vault”, Harry continued tentatively. “However, my guardian, who is currently imprisoned without trial, could – or a goblin of Gringotts. If my parents vault contains any money it is probably gaining interest. Also, Hagrid said that my family is rather old. So they may have their own investments. Finally, it was not overly dusty in the vault so someone does some cleaning down their every so often.”

Grimclaw's smile had been growing steadily during Harry's monologue. His eyes were also twinkling lightly as he sat up again.

“The question is, what do you gain from it if I task Gringotts with finding said package and the possible evidence? And what will it cost me?”

“Congratulations, Mr. Potter. Let us talk about your benefits first. If my hunch holds true and Lord Black is innocent then you will have a guardian in the magical world. Some of the investments that your parents made are no longer profitable. Your family vault does not hold as much money as it used to. Your father invested a great deal during the war. He had, however, no chance to see all of the vaults the head of his family is entitled to. And this is what will profit Gringotts. These old vaults of long forgotten families would be unfrozen. They do not hold much in terms of money but books and artifacts, some magical others not so much, and some of them goblin-made. Goblins believe that everything made by them should be returned after the owners death. If you want something made by goblins you pay us for the effort that was put into it, not it's materials. We only produce very high quality, be it weapons, jewelery or otherwise.”

“Would Gringotts offer to find a solicitor to get in contact with Lord Black over the new development, if possible evidence holds true so that every further financial agreement could be done with my correct guardian?” The goblins face turned grim like his name but Harry was not yet finished. “I would in turn write an agreement that any goblin-made item that was not intended for my line but just for a single person would be returned to the goblins.”

“Your strike a hard bargain, Mr. Potter.” This time it was Harry's turn to grin toothily.

“I'm good at observing. The information you gave me would probably allow me to do it on my own but it would take me much longer.”

“The objects intended for your line can not be given to someone outside the family.”

“Any children that I may have continue my line, regardless if a daughter or son.” Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at this. He was eleven. He had absolutely no interest in girls or having children for at least an other ten years and even that sounded far to early for him. Though, striking the bargain with the goblins that was not hammered out to the last detail seemed like a rather foolish thing to do.

“A witch always takes the name of her husband, they will not continue the Potter family”, Grimclaw tried to argue.

“Then again, you will try to access as many vaults as possible. So that wont stop you from going through any female line that you can dig up so long as it has goblin-made items or profit to gain.” That made the goblin grumble but Harry would not budge on that. He would not allow himself to be cheated out of something that could be of use to him and his family later on.

“That counts for your family as well as any that we can dig up, as you put it, Mr. Potter.”

“I shall not be held responsible for damaged or lost items”, added Harry after a moment of thought. Who knew if there was an entire list of objects that the goblins had crafted and their purpose. He would not get himself indebted over a missing ring or necklace just because it was stolen or lost.

With a grim nod the goblin agreed and explained that he would look for the package, see if it indeed held the evidence they hoped for and then draw up the agreement which he would send to Harry by owl. He would then, after receiving the students confirmation, notify Lord Black, as Harry was not yet able to legally sign any documents and a suitable solicitor – in that order.

“Now, your parents personal belongings. You understand, that you can only inherit once you turn seventeen. Fortunately for you they were never brought here. Your childhood home was put under charms to preserve its state right after the attack and everything was left in place. The Ministry turned it into a memorial. Though, no one can enter. This is the address.” Grimclaw took one of the large feathery quills and wrote on a piece of parchment which he then handed to Harry. “You should be able to enter the house. But doing so you might set of an alarm with the Ministry.”

“How do I get there?”

“Gringotts can provide you with a two-way portkey, an inconspicuous object that you have to touch and reacts at a set time or after an activation phrase that will transport you instantly to a prior set location – for the standard fee of course. Or you could take the Knight Bus. Once you obtained you wand, wave it. The rather bumpy ride would be eleven Sickles.”

“I'll try the bus this time as I'll probably have to get used to it.”

“Very well”, ended Grimclaw their conversation and Harry, thanking him, left the office.

Outside the door stood still Griphook who brought him down again. There was no further conversation between the two. Only when they reentered the hall with the long counter Harry turned once more to thank Griphook for his assistance which appeared to startle the goblin as much as the older one. Well, maybe not many wizards had manners.

Hagrid was waiting on the front steps of Gringotts.

“You look better now.”

“Hm, dunno like these carts. But yeh took some time in there. Problems? Goblins asked me where I got yer key.”

“I wouldn't call it problems but apparently you weren't supposed to have my key and neither was the headmaster. They just wanted to make sure everything was in order and explained one or two things, too.”

“Let's get yer uniform first we can collect them later.”

“They are custom made?”

“No use doing it differently. Not to many wizards around.”

Hagrid nudged Harry towards Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. There they split up again. Hagrid said he wanted to do something and that it would take a bit anyway. So Harry just entered the store. It was almost empty, which was likely luck, but for a blond boy standing on a footstool in the back of the shop. He was rather pale, with a pointed face and greyish blue eyes.

“That would be all Mr. Malfoy”, said the seamstress and turned around towards him. “Hallo, dear? Hogwarts?”

Harry greeted back and nodded.

“Go ahead an stand on it we'll get you fitted right away”, she replied pointing to the second footstool while she helped the other boy out of his fitted robes that had yet to be sewn.

“Hello, so you're going to Hogwarts, too.”

“Yes, I'm really looking forward to attending.”

“My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the streets looking for wands”, drawled the boy without taking any not of what Harry said. He reminded him rather strongly of Dudley, just with a little more intelligence. Self-preservation would require not to make an enemy out of him, though. No need to deal with another bully for the next years if you could avoid it and keep it at least civil.

“You are sure lucky to have two magical parents.” That startled the boy enough to get him to stop his monologue.

“They were _our_ kind, were they not? Where are they anyway?”

“Firstly, they were and, second, they died at the end of the last war.”

“Oh, sorry”, replied the boy, not sounding all that sorry. “So, who're you with?”

“Someone from the Hogwarts staff. There where complications with my letter.”

“How? It's delivered by owl. They can find you everywhere.”

“Nope”, here Harry grinned and decided to play the boys apparent dislikes. “A certain someone thought it was better if I grew up with my magic hating maternal aunt.” It was a bit of a risk, considering how the boy thought of everyone not a wizard or witch but he had at least a fifty fifty chance.

“She's a squib?” What the hell was that, Harry wondered.

“I wouldn't know yet. She didn't so much as let me utter the”, here he made air-quotes with his fingers, “m-word – well, magic. But I believe that she might be a Muggle and just jealous of my mum. And before you ask, my dad might be of an old family but there was probably no one alive who would take me in.”

“A half-blood then”, muttered the blond boy almost silently but Harry still heard him. He released the breath he had been holding. Mission accomplished. For a moment it had looked like the blond would just leave but Harry had managed to give just enough information to leave him curious.

“So, what house do you thing you'll be in?” Now Harry was thankful that he had asked Hagrid earlier, otherwise there would have been now way to answer that.

“I don't know. It's not like we will get to chose.”

“Well, of course nobody knows. But my family has been in Slytherin for generations.” Malfoy obviously tried to regain the lead of this conversation. But Harry didn't mind so much. “Imagine ending up in Hufflepuff.” Well, maybe he did.

“What does Slytherin stand for anyway. There seem to be a lot of preconceived notions around for all of the houses.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Slytherin is supposedly picked on most by anyone. They somehow believe that we're all evil. Salazar Slytherin, the founder of our house, valued cunning and ambition the most. You'll be save from Muggle-borns, too. So, how was growing up with _these people_? Are they still that backwards with no running water and all that.”

“It wasn't funny. Though, it's either because they do not understand magic and fear it or my aunt's just plain jealous. Though, they have had running water in the houses for about a hundred years. Stepping into Diagon Ally was little like going back in time.” Malfoy did not seem to believe that.

“Was it”, he drawled. Harry thought for a moment. With people like this you had to be careful what you said and, more importantly, how you phrased it.

“I don't know how wizards perceive Muggles but being separated economically and legally probably puts a lot of distance between both societies. It's probably better that way. But ignoring their advances may turn out fatal. Who knows if their satellites can make out our places or not.”

“Their what? How would they be able to do that. They'd never notice us.”

“Maybe. But if there are limitations to extending wizard space there may also be limitations on those charms that drive the Muggles away. And a satellite is no Muggle but a machine that is flying around in the orbit.”

That got the blond thinking. Maybe there was yet a chance for the other boy.

“So, your family is one of the old ones?”

“It's one of the oldest. Though, my family is originally from France we can trace it back about over height hundred years”, now Draco sounded rather proud again.

“So you know a lot about our world already. Did you go to a primary school.”

“I guess so. And there's no such things as primary schools. My father hired tutors for me. He, of course, taught me about the Malfoy family. Mother was a Black before they married so I learned about her family as well.” Black? That made Harry listen up and it was fairly difficult to hide a reaction. Oh, he would have loved to ask but bringing unwanted attention towards the matter may make the situation worse, especially if the goblins suspicion turned out correct. In that case the two relatives may have very well been on opposite sides of the war.

“What lessons did you have”, he asked instead.

“History, Latin, French, Potions and some others. My godfather is a Potions' master. It's also my favorite subject.”

“I can understand that. It sounded the most interesting, yet complex when I asked Hagrid about the Hogwarts subjects yesterday evening.”

“Hagrid? Oh, I've heard about him. He's a sort of servant at Hogwarts, isn't he?”

“He introduced himself as the gameskeeper and Keeper of Keys of Hogwarts, what ever that means. He did not much elaborate about what he does.”

“My father told me that he lives in a hut on the school grounds and every so often when he gets dunk the tries to do magic and setts that thing it on fire.”

“That's done, my dear”, interrupted the voice of Madam Malkin who had quietly worked on fitting Harry's robes. She had not intruded on the conversation even though she had listened. First she was frowning for she had surly recognized Harry. Or that was what Harry assumed since her eyes had widened for a moment before she firmly kept her eyes from his forehead. As the conversation continued he could see her smirk occasionally. She had obviously recognized what Harry was doing and decided to save him that very moment.

Harry, naturally, used that change of topic in order to slither out from giving an answer to that. In stead the hoped from the footstool and turned towards the seamstress.

“Madam Malkin, you wouldn't happen to know if we'll be allowed to wear anything besides our uniforms on weekends or in the evenings.”

Malfoy scoffed beside him and answered instead.

“Of course we are.” The older woman just nodded.

“Could you use the same measurements for four sets of casual robes. Two warmer for winter and two lighter ones. Nothing to extravagant though.”

“Of course, dear.” She headed towards one of the racks and pulled our two forest green robes. Both had silver fastenings and were decorated with silver embroidery of ivy leaves.

“Those are second hand”, Malfoy commented besides him.

“They are indeed, Mr. Malfoy.” Madam Malin's tone was rather cold towards the blond. “But not everyone is fortunate enough to be able to afford new robes. And these are half formal, as you will notice and hardly worn.”

“You have to keep in mind, that I'm an orphan. I only have my trust vault and that has to last me through all of Hogwarts”, Harry, though he, too, was chiding Malfoy, was purposefully keeping a much lighter and rather shy tone. It would go over with the blond much better. The larger boy was probably used to adults taking a harsh tone and therefore immediately brushed off what the others wanted him to learn. Harry's approach was much more subtle. And it worked, too. The dark look and the wrinkles on Malfoy's forehead, that he had adopted after Madam Malkin's harsher critique, creased as soon as the smaller preteen had finished speaking.

“Sorry”, he said to Harry and this time he even sounded a little like he meant it.

“It's fine”, Harry assured. “Won't those be too big”, Harry gestured to the robes.

“They'll be fine if I shorten them a little. I'll just put a second seam over the existing one. It will not be visible to anyone but a seamstress and we can reverse it should they hold out and you grow enough.”

Harry looked at the tiny price sign and agreed.

“Now, for the other two. Should they also be green and silver”, the seamstress asked, eyes twinkling.

Harry was left unable to cope with this. He had never cared about cloths. Well, that was not entirely correct. He was never given the chance to care about cloths. The only things he ever got new were underpants and that was only because Dudley's were so wide that no one else could use them. Otherwise, everything he worn were second hands.

Malfoy was not that timid. He dragged Harry so he could take a walk around him and than looked closely into his face. For a moment Harry feared he would be identified but that didn't happen.

“You should do something about those glasses”, he commented absentmindedly. “They look horrid and they are broken.” Than he turned back to Madam Malkin. “Some variety, might be better. How about midnight blue with silver or bronze fastenings and seams.”

While the seamstress got a sampler of her cloth. Draco looked carefully over the racks. He seemed to find what he was looking for and took out one slightly dusty robe at the end. It was clearly made for a slim built adult and would be to large. But it's condition was excellent. The style was also somewhat similar.

“Madam Malkin, is it possible to just shrink those and than gradually release the spell?”

This time Malfoy actually received a tiny smile from her. Harry did not see an obvious reaction from the blond but for a second his eyes shined a bit brighter. Praise was evidently not something he received often.

“You have a good eye, Mr. Malfoy. And yes I can shrink them. Now unless we find one more set these are the less expensive samples that would work for an other set of winter robes. Are you sure it's to be dark blue, dear?”

“Oh, I don't mind dark blue. I just don't like the washed out overly much.”

It took only a while but they soon found what they looked for. As the blue robes had no stitchery but bronze fastenings they decided to go with an identical style with the winter set, even though Harry would have liked the small seam of snowflakes. He did however ask in a moment when Malfoy did not pay attention if it was possible to change the fastening on his neck in a way that his family crest could be shown which Madam Malkin confirmed with a secret smile.

“I'll be collecting later this evening or tomorrow then”, Harry confirmed and turned back the blond teen that was unnervingly enough at least half a head taller than him.

“By the way, what is your name. I can hardly address you as Malfoy or just 'you' all of the time?”

In this very moment the bell over the shop's door chimed. A tall, well built man with long blond hair and rather similar features to the blond preteen entered. His expression was a cold mask. Only his eyes betrayed his feelings, showing the impatience.

“Draco, what is taking you so long?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate any comments whether you are registered or not. However, I take the liberty to view and read them first. As long as your spelling isn't worse than mine, and they're 'politically correct' I will allow them all. Yes, even those that write that they don't like my story. For those like I, who are non-native-speakers, I recommend to make use of spellcheck.net.


	3. Many Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whenever I take something directly from the books I will try to paraphrase as much as possible. Somethimes I just can't find another way.

**Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor**

 

 

**Chapter III: Many Meetings**

Draco who had stood with his back to the door flinched. The man was apparently his father and his rather cold tone gave his son some sign of his not so evident displeasure.

“Father”, he said but did not continue.

“I see, you have made a friend.” It was worded as a statement but Harry could clearly see the raised eyebrow. This man was dangerous, that was what all his senses screamed. With this man he would definitely not be able to stay under the radar as he had with his son.

“This is my father, Lord and head of the noble house of Malfoy”, Draco said towards Harry. Mr. Malfoy's eyebrow wandered a tiny bit higher. He was obviously perceptive enough to recognize that his son had yet to utter Harry's name.

“Lord Malfoy”, Harry decided to rescue the other teen. “Your son and I were about to formally introduce ourselves.” With this he stepped out completely behind Draco. The reaction he got from the older blond only confirmed his suspicion. The Malfoys were of a vastly different opinion than his parents had been, if not outright enemies. Malfoy's eyes lit up in recognition only to narrow and turn icy cold. Nevertheless, Harry steeled himself and made sure that he could also watch Draco as he continued, if only for the younger's shake.

“My name is Harrison James Potter.”

Draco went slack jawed. And while his father scowled ever so slightly Harry's mouth corners twitched.

“You're catching flies, Draco.”

“No way.” Draco finally managed to catch himself. “There's no way they would allow you to grow up with _Muggles_.” He practically spat out the last word. “Especially if they hate magic.”

Malfoy senior's eyebrow found his way up again. Well, it seemed that he had not known that tidbit of information. He was listening intently and observing the two preteens, as far as Harry could tell.

To stop the inevitable rant that the younger was prepared to give, Harry just raised his hand. For the first time since they met he commanded authority in his voice. He focused on wanting to shut Draco up and then very clearly said but one word:

“Stop.”

It worked. Harry felt a small rush through him and the next words that Draco spoke could only be seen but not heard.

“Impressive”, commented Madam Malkin behind him.

“Draco, it was a civil war, as far as I understand it. And if it was anything like the wars the Muggles fought, it was a right mess.” He shot a guarded look at the older Malfoy and continued. “Your father has lived though it and could probably tell you more about it, especially if a Lord in the magical world has a similar standing to the Lords in the Muggle world.”

Draco who was still unable to say anything turned around to his father and started gesticulating. The older Malfoy appeared somewhat torn to Harry but he could not quite make out what it was.

“An intriguing deduction, you have made there, Mr. Potter.” Well, Harry thought, whatever it was dislike was definitely among the top. “Would you care to elaborate and also to release my son from that wandless silencio?”

Now it was Harry's turn to look a bit uncomfortable if not sheepish. His cheeks turned slightly pink and he desperately fought the urge to scratch the back of his head.

“I apologize, I do not know what you mean by that, sir. The silencing effect usually vanishes after a maximum of three minutes.” Malfoy senior just nodded to that so he took it as a sign to continue. “As for the title. In the Muggle world all of the Lords are somehow connected to politics. I was never overly interested but if that works the same in the Wizarding world, you would have connection to the Ministry and the law forming process.” Well, that was at least partially a lie but in the long run it should be better for him to leave others ignorant of just how perceptive he was. Families like the Malfoys were dangerous enough as it was. It was safer to let them believe that neither did he understand politics, nor did he want to have a part in it. “I do not really know how that works, though, as I have always preferred science over politics. That means, the magical equivalent is Potions, I should think.”

“There's nothing wrong with aiming to become a scholar”, the older stated without confirming or denying anything he said.

Harry who had spied Hagrid at the window turned towards Draco again.

“I'll leave you to your shopping with your parents.” Draco's still silent protest was stopped in its beginning. “The headmaster send Hagrid and I have little doubt that he'll be reporting back on how that went. He seems like a rather talkative fellow. I shall see, if I can find an owl and write, if that is all right.”

Draco nodded and his father, too, gave his permission, even, if more hesitant.

“I shall see you on the train then.”

“Mr. Potter, knowing Hagrid and the sieve he calls his brain, allow me to inform you that the entrance though Kings Cross is hidden behind a brick pillar, if you just walk though it.”

“Thank you, Lord Malfoy”, Harry replied. It was clear to him that the information was given only to make him thankful towards the man for being one of the first in this world to be helpful. For the other it was most likely about keeping appearances. He would not only be seen as someone helping orphan but the boy-who-lived. And with a last wave Harry left the shop.

As soon as the preteen had left the store he was assaulted by a large cage that was shoved into his hands. In it sat the beautiful snowy owl he had had his little staring match with earlier. The jewel-like eyes regarded him carefully and bored into him, as if to say what are you waiting for, a written invitation.

“Hagrid?”

“Happy birthday, Harry”, the man just beamed and grind widely under his beard.

“Uh, thank you, Hagrid... you really didn't have to”, was Harry's somewhat self-conscious answer. He had never gotten a birthday present, at least not for as long as he had lived with the Dursleys. Getting one now made him feel a little bit out of his depth, How was he supposed to reply.

“That beauty is a snowy owl. Thought yeh might like her. Saw yeh starin' at her earlier. Owls're dead useful fer deliverin' yer mail an all that”, chuckled Hagrid and patted Harry on his shoulder with one of his large pranks that he had for hands. The gesture made Harry's knees buckle and jostled the cage which earned him an indignant shriek and Hagrid a reproachful look from the amber eyes.

“Sorry”, Harry did not really know why he was apologizing to the owl but then she seemed far more perceptive than a normal animal and it somehow felt right. “Would your rather sit on my shoulder”, he ask on a hunch. He had seen someone do that earlier and the little brown owl had not flown away, in fact it had appeared rather comfortable there.

She just stared at him and blinked slowly before hooting softly.

Harry took it as a yes, opened the cage and held his arm out so the owl could climb on it. With a tentative and very careful movement she set her claw on Harry's arm and took the first step towards becoming her new owners very first friend.

Moments later the trio made their way towards the shop that sold trunks and all kind of other bags. Harry had reasoned with the older man that it was much more practical to buy the trunk and a schoolbag first, so they could put his new belongings in there. It turned out to be one of the bigger shops in the ally. In fact it was a corner shop, which led into a much darker and dirty street.

“Hagrid, what's down there?”

“Better keep away from there, Harry. Nocturn Ally is a dangerous place, especially fer yeh.”

Harry just nodded as they entered.

The shop was filled with all kinds and sizes of trunks, bags and briefcases. But it also had some, in Harry's opinion, very old fashioned backpacks that looked like gear for hiking back in the nineteen thirties. In an other part of the store Harry could make out round leather and cloth-covered tubes. At first he was not sure what they would be meant for but after a moment it kicked. The wizards still used parchment, which probably meant, that he would end up with a lot roles with no way of putting them into folders as the Muggles used. Of course it would made sense to store them in a different way.

The rather chatty clerk introduced himself as the many-times-great-grandson of Mr. Baggis who founded Baggis Baggage Bags. Soon enough Harry found out that trunk making was apparently a craft that was almost as old as wand making. There was an ongoing debate whether Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions or the Baggis Baggage Bags was there first. He also learned quite a bit about good quality and what to look out for when buying something of leather in the Wizarding world.

It all really started only because Hagrid had dragged Harry over to the standard Hogwarts trunks. Not that there was something wrong with them. They were, according to Mr. Baggis, of good quality for relatively small money. Unfortunately, or maybe not, Harry had just spoken a mite bit to loud.

“Hagrid, I don't think that the trunk will fit everything for all seven years. You saw what _they_ were like. I can hardly leave anything behind without having to worry if it'll still be there when I come back for summer holidays.”

In the end, Harry had ended up with a five compartment trunk that had been slightly customized. It had a pair of pull-out wheels added to it, after Harry described how Muggle suitcases looked and worked. The second charm that was added was a Muggle repellent charm. This way there was close to no way that the Dursleys, or others, would look twice at the rather large trunk. A standard feather-light-charm was already on the trunk but after a bit or persuasion Harry agreed to have a shrinking and resizing charm added to it.

When Harry inquired about the round leather tubes Mr. Baggis almost laughed. Chuckling he explained that the bigger ones were actually wizard tents. They had tube-like containers for storing scrolls but what Harry had been able to see from his position in the shop was to big for that. So Mr. Baggis lead the confused eleven-year-old and an equally amused Hagrid over to one small set up tent. He invited Harry to have a look inside and moments later an amazed preteen emerged out again.

“This is amazing.” Harry commented his trip. While the tent had not been furnished, it was clearly divided into rooms: a living room, a small kitchen, one bedroom and an adjourning bathroom.

“Are all magical tents like this?” Of course he had never been in a Muggle tent but applying logic dictated that it was no bigger than it looked from the outside. Dudley and his friends had wanted to camp out in the back yard once when they were smaller. Unfortunately the weather had taken a turn for the worse and ever since the tent, that his aunt and uncle had bought for this occasion, had collected dust in the attic. Otherwise, Harry would have most likely be the one who would have had to set it up.

This question spurted Mr. Baggis into giving another of his detailed explanations of how wizard tents where a status symbol. He did not seem to understand that a normal magical tent, going by the wizard standards, would stand out overly much with the Muggles. He complained about not being able to use his whole potential and creativity because the Ministry put a limit on what he was allowed to do. Apparently Mr. Weasley, head of the Ministry Department for Misuse of Muggle artifacts, came into his shop regularly just to check the Muggle conformity of his tents.

Nevertheless, Harry managed to purchase all he needed from the store within a relatively short amount of time. And when the salesclerk asked what name to put on the trunk, there was almost no stopping him after hearing Harry's name. He did not only put his name on the trunk but, and Harry found out about that only when he arrived in Hogwarts, he exchanged his simple, cotton covered parchment tubes into slightly more elaborate one and put his name along with the subject on it.

After that they went into the Apothecary, where Harry managed to get a bigger box that had enough space to hold all the different ingredients till fifth year. Though of course he only got the ingredients required for the first year curriculum. The apothecary was very helpful when he asked end even explained a tiny bit about shelf life of his supply.

As they were making their way towards Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor for a small brake. Harry took his chance and asked Hagrid if he knew his parents personally and what he knew about them. Having never had the chance of asking anyone about them, he had made up his own fantasies because he did not want to believe that what the Dursleys had told him was true. Now, however, he was finally able to let loose a whole stream of questions. How did they look like? What were they like? Did they have friends at school? Did they stay friends with them? Why did they never contact him? What did his parents do after school?

In the end it turned out that Hagrid had mostly known his father and not so much his mother. He wasn't a teacher but got to pull out his father of the Forbidden Forest more times than he cared to recall. His father had also been a bit of a trouble maker. And had been friends with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the later one was dead. Hagrid did not mention Sirius Black but Harry had almost expected it when the other got a bit fidgety after his question about friends. However, Hagrid did tell him, that his mother was friends with his Potions Master Severus Snape until some time around the end of fifth year or the beginning of their sixth. He did not know what their fall out was about but, to Hagrid's knowledge, they never made up. The giant man could also tell him, that his parents best subjects. According to him Lily was very gifted in Charms and Potions while James preferred Transfiguration and was a good flyer.

When they passed Quality for Quidditch again on their way to get Harry's wand Harry overheard some of the children. They had gathered in front of the shop window and were looking at something that looked like a broom, though Harry could not begin to guess what that would mean.

“Hagrid, do wizards and witches use brooms for flying?”

“Sure do. Why're yea askin'?”

“Then, what's Quidditch?”

“Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yer know – not knowin' about Quidditch!”

Harry bristled. It was most certainly not his fault. If there was anyone to point the finger at it would be the headmaster, that's if Hagrid told the truth when he said it was Dumbledore who had but him with the Dursleys. But with Hagrid being so devoted to that man there would be no way Harry could say that out loud.

“So, what is it then? I could see a broom in the shop window. Does it have to do with flying?”

“It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like football in the Muggle world – everyone follows Quidditch. The broom yeh saw's new. Just came out. Quidditch's played in the air on broomsticks there's four balls an' the rules're sorta hard ter explain.”

Ollivander's: Makers of fine wands since 382 BC, was a very cramped shop. The shelves reached up to the ceiling and were full of small long boxes. Some stuck out slightly. But most importantly, there was nothing that would give away any order, no sings at all, even though the tiny place felt a bit like a very old dusty library. No sound entered the shop even though the street was noisy and a bell had rung somewhere in the back upon their entrance. There was only one chair sanding at the front, which Hagrid sat down on. He seemed to expect a period of waiting.

A prickling on the back of his neck caused Harry to abruptly twirl around, only to come face to face with a pair of creepy pale silvery eyes.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Potter”, said a soft, slightly amused voice, as Harry stumbled back a little. “I thought I'd be seeing you soon.”

“Good afternoon, sir”, replied Harry awkwardly as he caught himself.

“You have your mother's eyes. It seemed only yesterday that she was here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy and made of willow. Nice for charm work.”

The old Mr. Ollivander moved back to the counter to pick up something that had laid on top of it.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches, pliable, a little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored – it's actually the wand that chooses the wizard.”

Once again Mr. Ollivander had moved to stand very close to Harry. His right hand moved up and a long white finger touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead.

“And that where... I'm sorry to say that I made and sold the wand that did it”, he said softly regret thick and obvious in his voice. “Thirteen and a half inches, made of yew. A powerful wand, very much so and in the wrong hands... Had I known what that wand would cause...”

He shock his head sadly but seemed to pull himself out of his mood when he spotted Hagrid – much to Harry's relief who did not know what to make out of the man before him.

“Rubeus Hagrid. How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches and rather bendy, wasn't it? But I suppose they snapped it when you got expelled.”

Hagrid blushed under furiously under all his hair and Harry noticed his grip on the pink umbrella tightening

“Yes, sir”, Hagrid replied, probably to both. “I've still got the pieces, though.”

“But you don't _use_ them”, Ollivander asked now sharply.

“Oh, no, sir”, Hagrid was quick to reply but Harry noticed the red deepening a tiny bit. It was good that he had already been red to begin with for he was a very bad liar. However, if Mr. Ollivander spotted it as well he did not call Hagrid on it. With a last pricing look towards the other man he turned back to Harry.

“Well, now, Mr. Potter, let me see. Which is your wand arm.”

“I don't know. I am right-handed, though.”

An answer which started his doom. At the beginning Harry could still take it with good humor. Mr. Ollivander explained a bit about wands while he measured and Harry got to throw in one or two questions about how to carry a wand with you and if something had to be done to take care of them. It got even funny when the magical measuring tape suddenly started to take the most random, if not strange, measurements, flying around wildly while doing so. At one point it even took distance between his nostrils but also startled the white owl on his shoulder awake who got a hold of that annoying thing in one of her talons and was just about to introduce it to her beak when Mr. Ollivander, with a stack of wand boxes in hand, reappeared behind one of the shelves and summoned it away from hear. After that the fun ended. Harry did not know how many wands he had tried. But the more annoyed he got the happier Mr. Ollivander became It did not even seem to matter that Harry, while trying out the different wands, slowly demolished the store. The old wand maker would just flit around more shelves, a bit more energized each time.

“Tricky customer, eh? Don't wor..”, he interrupted himself. “I wonder, but why not...” And without elaborating he vanished behind a shelve returning with one single box muttering about an unusual combination and curious circumstances.

“Thy this one, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

As Harry apprehensively took the wand he felt a warmth spreading out, starting from this fingers and from deep inside him, meeting halfway. He carefully twirled it in his hand causing it to shoot a line of flame-like fiery red and gold sparks from its end that illuminated the slightly dark store. Hagrid whooped and clapped behind him.

“Oh, wonderful. Yes, indeed, very good.”

Mr. Ollivander put Harry's wand back into the box and wrapped it in brown paper, again muttering about curious coincidences.

“Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, but what is so curious”, Harry could not help but asking.

“Mr. Potter, I remember every wand that I've ever sold. Every single wand. It just happens that the phoenix who gave the tail feather in your wand, gave one other – only one. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.

Harry swallowed. That was definitely not what he had expected and a rather bitter pill to swallow. The symbolism alone...

“Remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard. I think, we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but nonetheless great.”

The boy was not entirely sure he liked what he just heard. It sounded ominous and foreboding.

He paid seven golden Galleons for the wand and another ten for a bespelled, within the Ministry regulations, leather wand holster and a care kid in green, his favorite color. Then they left.

After an other few, but this time luckily short, stops to acquire, quills, a lot of parchment, empty journals, ink, a cauldron and some owl order catalogs they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch. Harry, for once had not question as they walked through the now emptier ally and the archway back into the pub. After a hearty stew, some pumpkin juice and a piece of treacle tart he lend back into the chair.

“Hagrid, why is everyone convinced that I am special. Why isn't it mum or dad.”

“Hard ter explain. Yer the only survivor, I guess. Yer family was not the only one that You-Know-How an' his followers destroyed. But somehow yer the only one that still lives and he's gone.”

“Is he really gone for good.”

“Dunno, not sure he's still human enough ter die. But we haven't heard from him fer almost ten years, have we? Well, let's get yer home.”

“I can't. My robes will only be ready tomorrow. This is an in, isn't it. So I can stay one night and go home tomorrow.”

“Yer aunt an' uncle will be worried, Harry. They may not like yer but they're still yer guardians.” Harry almost snorted.

“They'll be happy I'm not around. They'd be unbearable. Especially after this morning when they were stuck on that rock when we left with the only boat.”

Hagrid looked skeptical.

“I have to go to Gringotts tomorrow anyway, I told you I asked for my parents school books.”

Not entirely certain but knowing that he had lost that argument Hagrid went to Tom and spoke quietly with him. Harry listened intently but couldn't make out what they were saying. In the end Hagrid left some money on the counter and then returned to Harry, handing him a key with a number on it.

“Right under the roof.”

 

The night was quiet and warm under the roof. Even opening the windows had helped little. His snowy companion had perched herself on top of the backrest of the only chair in front of the window in order to catch a little breeze. All of hear feathers lay thin against her body as she slept. Harry had heard her leave once through the night but she was back in the morning.

As he lay awake, waiting for the sun to rise he remembered yesterdays late afternoon. It had proven to be a chore to sneak past Tom back into the ally. A short trip to Gringotts to exchange some of his money into Muggle currency and a stop at the pet shop to see if they sold treats for owls, along with a second small ice-cream that would be his alibi he returned to the inn. When he stepped in his calculations turned out correct. Tom had seen him enter from the magical world and with the ice-cream in hand he could just throw him as sheepish smile and evade a lecture. Hagrid had most likely asked him to watch Harry. He was only an eleven-year-old boy, after all, no matter how self-sufficient.

After that he had approached Tom to ask him if he knew of a phone box. As someone having his pup directly connected to the Muggle world Harry expected that he other new what he was talking about. A few minutes later, with some rather stern reminder about not going astray in the Muggle world, he left through the front door promising to be back as fast as possible. Oh, he would, but he had other plans than just informing his relatives of his whereabouts.

The phone call in it self had been rather amusing. It had been his aunt who answered the telephone. She was even surprised enough to ask if the freaks had finally learned to install phones. Though, Harry assured her that they hadn't, at least to the best of his knowledge. He then hurried to tell her that, if things went well, he may not return. Should it not work out as he hoped, he would only arrive tomorrow evening. She was slightly stumped at this and asked how that was possible but Harry had evaded giving further information by saying something confusing and rather completely false about some obscure laws and that it had to do with his fathers family.

He also told her that he would have to come for a visit in any case and explained to her that the headmaster had had no right to bring him to her family. They were not his guardians and his parents may have made it clear that if they died he would never end up with them. If he were not to return he would need any correspondence she may have gotten from his world and he would most likely not come alone as a barrister may be involved. Furthermore he would try to find a way to contact them through the normal postal way, he had an owl but he would rather not send her. For which his aunt was actually grateful.

On his way back he stopped shortly at a cloth store that advertised a discount and even found a second hand shop where he purchased some a little to big, white, long sleeved, button down shirts, black slacks and shoes, a light coat, twines and needles – he had not done years of housework without learning the basics of sewing. From a discounter a bread, apples, butter and cheese. The most important thing, however, was a small box with waterproof concealer to cover up his scar. One side trip into a back ally and he could hide all his new stuff in his trunk that was.

The first rays of sun had finally risen over the horizon as Harry had reminisced the last afternoon. Sighing he got up and took a long shower taking advantage that none was hammering at the door for him to hurry up and not waste their precious water. Then he dressed in some of the new cloths. And although the black slacks were to long and had needed shortening they did not nearly look as bad as Dudley's cast offs. With his scar hidden and his owl on his shoulder he made his way downstairs where a barely awake bartender opened up his pub.

“Good morning, Tom.” Harry put the key on the counter.

“Good morning, Mr. Potter. Breakfast will be ready in a moment.” Harry went slack yawed. He had not expected that.

“But, didn't Hagrid already pay for the stay.”

Tom laughed.

“That room you had last night, is probably the tiniest and most uncomfortable in the whole inn. I rarely even use it. But Hagrid argued that you would never allow him to pay for a better room and breakfast. So we compromised. Now, how does a full English breakfast sound? Sit over there. I've yet to eat myself.”

Tom hushed him towards a table where he had sat down two plates, cups and cutlery. A pot of hot steaming tea sat next to freshly beaked bread, butter, marmalade, milk for the tee and some syrup. Half a grapefruit set atop of each plate along with a small portion of warm porridge. Harry had hardly sat down as Tom already reentered the room. In his hand a big plate that held baked tomatoes and bacon, along with some fried mushrooms, small sausages, and eggs.

“Dig in, Mr. Potter, I can tell by just looking at you that you're far to thin.”

And Harry did. At some point in his life he had eaten any of it before. But most of it was either the burned parts or they were at least already cold. The Dursleys had never allowed him to sit at the table with them. Only when they had guest and to keep up appearances he got to eat warm food. Having a full English breakfast was quite literally unthinkable.

Ordinarily Harry would have just had the porridge and maybe a slice of bread but Tom saw to it that he hate a second and even gave him the rest of the backed tomatoes and bacon when he saw that the snowy owl was steeling some of it.

“You have got a cheeky one there”, he commented. “Does she have a name.”

Harry did not ask how he knew that his companion was female and just shock his head.

“No, I hoped to find an inspiration for a name in one of my books today.”

“Didn't you by those yesterday.”

“No, I asked the goblins for my parents schoolbooks. There's no need to waste money and have a book trice in the end.”

“Hm, so you'll be heading for Gringotts then.”

Harry nodded, even if that was not necessarily true. He would only collect his cloth at Madam Malkin's, buy some flowers, if the vendor was there today as well, and then go to Godric's Hollow. Grimclaw had said that he would owl him, so he would probably receive a letter today.

“I'll be coming right back through in a bit. Can I call the Knight Bus directly in front of the pub.”

“Ah, so you already know about that one? Well, yes, you can do that. The Muggles can not see it. Though be warned the ride is rather bumpy. Ernie, the driver, is a bit...”

After saying goodbye to Tom, Harry, once more, made his way into the ally. He greeted Madam Malkin as she opened her shop and packed away his new robes after one final check by trying all of them on. They did fit rather well. Thanking her once again he left her as well and half an our after finishing breakfast he stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron waving shortly with his wand.

Seconds later a deafening bang announced the arrival of a violently purple triple-decker bus that came to screeching halt. Golden letters over the windshield spelled its name. After a moment the conductor, wearing an equally purple uniform jumped out of the front door while the door in the back opened and a few green looking people stepped out of the bus, one still wearing a night cap, another had, what looked like hot chocolate over his robes.

“Good morning and welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you were ever you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike a-”

“Good morning, Mr. Shunpike” Harry resolutely interrupted before that speak got any longer.

“Good morning... Woss your name?”

“Piers Polkins”, Harry lied through his teeth.

“Well, g'd morning Piers. Where to?”

“Godric's Hollow, please, eleven Sickles, correct?” Harry had already spied the sign next to the driver and confirmed the amount named by Grimclaw yesterday. So he counted the money carefully and gave it to Stan.

“Well, hop on.”

Inside there were still a mixture of brass beds and mismatched chairs, some of them fallen over, most likely when the bus stopped, that gave Harry the vague idea that he might not enjoy the trip to come. With great trepidation he sat down, not a moment to late. With a jerk the bus started moving and shortly after the same deafening bang brought them from the middle of London onto some highway.

By the end of the trip even Harry felt slightly sick and his snowy companion was just a little short of outright attacking the driver or conductor. She had nearly fallen off his shoulder each and every time the bus jumped to another time – not even taking into account Ernie's horrible driving stile when he went around the hairpin bends of some country road somewhere in the hills or mountains.

It was with wobbly knees that Harry stepped of the bus when they finally arrived in Godric's Hollow. He may have turned out Stan Shunpike for most of the ride, just letting his constant chatter drift in through one ear and out of the other, but he was also most grateful for it. For it was the only thing distracting him enough from throwing up his breakfast and so he swore to himself never to get on that bus again after eating.

The first thing on his schedule in Godric's Hollow was to make his way to the graveyard. Grimclaw was nice enough to add that address as well, so he just asked his way around, in the village. Sure enough he soon found himself next to the local church, entering the graveyard and looking for his parents graves. He found them, among many other Potter's, although the dates on the gravestones indicated that some had died long before. He had no idea what flowers where appropriate for decorating a grave and so he just went with his mothers name and had gotten a bouquet of white lilies wit dark green ivy to lay on.

When he finally knelt in front of his parents graves it hit him for the first time. Death was something final. A tiny, and admittedly rather childish, part of him had always dreamed about having parents that did secret missions. He had always hoped that some day, if he was just good enough, they would come to pick him up. They would get him out of his personal hell and they could be a happy family. But now, seeing the graves, he was forced to accept the harsh reality and see it with a clarity that he did not before. And so, for the very first time in his memory, he cried; cried for the parents, the family and childhood that he lost because of a mad man's doings; cried because of the unfairness of people expecting him to do great things when logic demanded that it was his parents who had saved him; cried because for as long as he could remember, all he ever felt was loneliness.

A rustle of feat and a walking cane hitting the ground brought him back to awareness. He wiped the tears of his cheeks with the sleeve of his coat. From the corner of his eyes he saw and old lady with gray hair approaching. From her tattered looks Harry was not sure if she was a witch or some rather crazy, old Muggle woman.

“Are you quite all right, dear?” Her old voice sounded thin but was layers thick with honest worry.

“Yes, mam', I'm fine, thank you”, Harry forced himself to answer even if his voice sounded of and clearly stated otherwise. As he stood up he brushed the dirt of his trousers and turned towards the old lady. Harry gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but instead of leaving the old lady gasped.

“Bless my sole. Mr. Potter, I never expected to see you again during my lifetime.”

Harry frown, he had concealed his scar this morning and that Muggle make up was nasty stuff, which meant that he had tested it by washing his face with hot water after wards just to see if it came down. He was absolutely sure that it could not be seen. So, how did the old woman recognize him.

“Ah, excuse me. You would not remember me, of course not, you were far to young back then.”

Ah, that explained it, Harry thought as the elder continued rambling.

“My name is Bathilda Bagshot. I was the Professor for History at Hogwarts but retired before your parents started school. I only got to know them, well your mother mostly, when they moved here after their wedding.”

Well, that was definitely a surprise. Harry contemplated the pros and cons of asking further questions but it was not at all necessary. Ms. Bagshot seemed contend enough to ramble on and spout almost everything she remembered about him. She single-handedly gave him more information and insight about his parents their lives and friends than anyone else. She also had a brilliant memory for she was able to give a chronicle account of events and switched to diachronic when ever there was a need for more information, which was often. She did not assume that he knew anything but instead started at the beginning. Harry could see why she had been a Professor for History with the passion that she held. And then it clicked.

“You wrote the book, that we have to buy, A History of Magic, wasn't it?”

She just smiled at him an hushed him forward as they had been making their way through the village towards the outskirts. They left her grocery bag at her house and went on to Potter Cottage, as the old woman called it.

When Harry asked for clarification he only got to know that his parents had bought that house but it was not the ancestral home of the Potter family. While that family had lived here for generations, there were rumors about a manor or ancient home that was hidden somewhere around here.

“There we are.”

They had reached a house at the and of the street. It was a midsized two story house with a bit of garden around it that had grown a out of bounds. The paint of the gate was starting to fall of, A sign stood right behind it and told the story of what happened that night. It was graffitied over and the text was barely legible anymore as people had written well wishes on it.

Harry just stood in front of the gate. He could not bring himself to just enter the house. In stead the took in the sight before him, burning it into his memory. Ivy ranked itself up at the side of the house but it had somehow stopped growing. It was a bit as if the House and anything directly touching it was frozen in time, while the rest of the garden started to resemble a jungle.

Harry just vaguely noticed Mr. Bagshot leaving him. She made him promise that he would come for a cup of tea before he left but here legs were a bit old to just be standing around for a long time. Even after she was gone, Harry did not immediately enter the property.

When he eventually did. He almost could not. The hangs of the garden gate where so rusty it hardly opened. So he squeezed himself through. The front door was not looked but at first it, too, resisted opening. This time the hangers did not squeak, though. Maybe the Ministry had dome something from preventing just anyone to enter the house. He did not care.

He stepped into a narrow corridor. At the end a set of stairs lead up. One of the doors was wide open. It let into the living room which unlike the corridor appeared untouched. Two mugs where standing on the couch table, a fire was burning but it to was frozen, like in a picture. It was bizarre, thought Harry, as he stepped into the room. On the mantelpiece stood a couple of pictures. One showed a group of five. In the middle was a man that looked very much like him. He had his arm around the beautiful woman next to him. On his other side stood a man. He was just as tall. His hair was as dark as his fathers but not nearly as untamed. Dark, neatly ordered curls fell onto his shoulders. He had a wide charming grin on his face as he grind into the camera. He had his right hand on his fathers shoulders and leaned on him which left the young somewhat plumb man with a mouse-like face next to him a bit out of the group. On the woman's other side stood one more man, though he looked a little older and worn out. His robes hung a bit shapeless of his body and where patched up at odd places.

Harry's eyes drifted over the other photographs. Most of them featured what he believed to be his parents. The mouse-like boy did not reappear anywhere else. But there was also a shot of a couple, that held a young man. He looked like an older version of his dad and Harry concluded that it could possibly be his grandfather. But he skipped over it as well as all his attention was focused on the only picture that was not just black and white. A family portrait. It looked like it had been shot in summer. His father sat on a blanked in a garden or park, his mother next to him. None of them looked into the camera. The small toddler in between the two held all of their attention. Little Harry was clutching two dog or wolf shaped cuddly toys while sleeping.

Harry reached out to take the picture from the mantelpiece, enthralled with the peace it conveyed. He sank on the pollster stool, a part of the tree-piece-suit, in front of the now moving flames. When he had taken the picture it seamed as if the spell, freezing everything in time, had broken. Harry, however, took no notice of that, nor of the noises around him as others entered the house.

“Put your wand down and turn around slowly”, a voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “You are hereby charged with trespassing.”

Harry turned his face towards the intruder.

“And what right do you have to be here”, he drawled imitating no other than Draco Malfoy.

The first speaker had entered the living room and a second and third person became visible behind him.

“Savage, don't answer that”, boomed a voice from the corridor. From the sound of it the person was still close to the front door and had entered just as Harry replied.

“Moody, this is non of your business. You're obstructing our work.”

The man called Moody chuckled in amusement.

“I'd like to see you hand in that report saying that you arrested Harry Potter in his parents house.”

The others openly gaped and Harry could not help but role his eyes, as a tall man shoved his way into the room. He was at least six feet tall, with dark gray hair. But that was not the remarkable about him. His whole face and even his neck and hands were scarred, a good chunk of his nose was missing and one of his eyes was replaced by a vivid, electric blue look-alike that was spinning madly in his socket.

“Alastor Moody”, he introduced himself gruffly. “Bathilda contacted me, saying you were here without any adult.”

Someone muttered something about old people and seniles sticking together, causing both of Moody's eyes to focus on the unnamed auror.

“I may be old, Henson, but I'm neither deaf nor unable to still mop the floor with your”, Moody got interrupted by a sharp voice calling his name.

“Alastor!”

“You were saying, Robarts?”

“Mr. Potter”, Robarts chose to ignore Moody in favor of addressing him. “This place is a memorial, warded by the Ministry. No one, is allowed to enter it as it was kept the way it was like at the night of the attack on you and your parents.”

“Does the Ministry make a habit of turning the inheritance of orphans into memorials, thereby taking away everything of sentimental value.” Harry made it a point to hold up the picture he had been looking at. “Does the Ministry even realize that I have never so much as seen a picture of my late parents before today when they allowed that I was dumped with a Muggle family.”

Harry was irate. How dare they. If they had only wanted the house to become a memorial, well, he could have understood that but he was talking about their belongings, photographs, old letters, anything that could give him some information about how they were like.

The man looked slightly uncomfortable at this.

“You should have just gone through the proper channels first, then it wouldn't have been a problem”, chimed in the man whom Moody called Savage.

“In case I did not express myself clearly enough for you, Sir”, Harry started, voice cold enough to freeze hell over. “I was raised with Muggles, and believe me, I did try to find out where my parents graves where.”

Oh, he had indeed and it that gotten him one of the longest punishments in form of a server 'spanking' and confinement to his cupboard.

“Now, now, Mr. Potter”, it was Robarts again. “We were told that your mothers family had taken you in.”

“If by 'taken me in' you are referring to the headmaster dropping me of on there door step in the middle of the night, than yes, they did take me in. They even got a letter telling them who I was, that my parents were dead and what not.”

Well, congratulation to myself, Harry thought sarcastically, I've just successfully managed to stun four grown adults, three of them some sort of police, into absolute silence.

“Surly, your guardians would have taken you, if you had asked. Godric's Hollow is a mixed community. There are ways for Muggles to come here.” That was the unnamed third of the trio. He did not seem to believe Harry, but then again, Tom did not want to believe that it was his parents who where the heroes either.

“First of all, they might not even have known where we are.” There was no need to tell that there was no way the Dursleys would have taken him, even if they knew. “Second, the fact that I've not seen so much as a picture of my mother should be a tell tale sign that they didn't so much as stay in contact. Third, this concludes that they most likely did not want anything to do with wizards. And lastly, if that was true than I would have not known about the magical world until they couldn't prevent it any longer.”

Moody grunted but he seemed more amused about preteen showing up some Ministry official than anything else. He had gone to closely observing Harry, who found that slightly unnerving and was tempted to glare at the older wizard. Only, he wold have probably lost that contest with the older man. Moody did look rather creepy, after all.

“If I had so much as set a toe into the Wizarding world, you would have known it, seeing on how ridiculous most people behave when meeting me. Oh, and lastly, the Muggles I was dumped with aren't my legal guardians, nor is the headmaster. The goblins were kind enough to inform me about that and are already going through the proper channels to look into that.” He threw a nasty look as Savage.

Well, that was no lie. Harry just omitted that he knew who could have been his guardian. If his silent observer realized that he left something out he did not let on. So, Harry just put the picture back on the mantelpiece and walked out of the living room. As if in an afterthought, the turned around in the door frame.

“The door is over there”, Harry pointed down the hall end left in the opposite direction. He was half the way up the stairs, when Savage caught up to the bottom.

“Potter, you can't just dismiss Aurors. This has to be done...” Harry did not let him finish.

“Mr. Savage, If this had been done properly in the first place we wouldn't been having this conversation. The Ministry had no right to claim my inheritance. I care little for the house itself, seeing that the only memories I have of it are a cruel laugh and a flash of green light. But, as the goblins informed me, everything from within should have been placed into Gringotts. Good day, sir.”

Once again he left three stumped Ministry officials in his wake and a loudly laughing Moody in the door frame to the living room. Harry stopped out of sight and waited for the tell tale noise of footsteps and the sound of the front door, then he followed the signs of destruction towards an unhinged door.

He found himself in a bedroom equipped for a child. Even though it was partially destroyed, a look around the room told him that it was furnished with care. In his old bed he spotted the two small cuddly toys he had seen on the picture, sitting right next to the pillow. He could now see that it was a black dog and a brown wolf. On the foot end there was another one that remotely resembled a mouse. The pillowcase was decorated with a family of dears that resembled Walt Disney's Bambi. In a corner there was a shelf with books. Next to it, on the ground, stood an open wooden box that contained some wooden blocks and other toys.

Harry stood right in front of the bed, back to the door, lost in his thoughts when a loud gruff voice boomed.

“CONSTANT VIGILANCE.”

 


	4. First Impressions

**Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor**

 

 

**Chapter IV: First Impressions**

Harry shot around, his heart pounding hard. In front of him, leaning in the door frame stood Moody. Harry frowned. He had thought that everyone had left. The man looked almost smug.

“You've got a good head on that shoulders of yours, but you need more knowledge before you can go and.. well, before you can openly defy the Ministry, even if they're in the wrong.”

Harry's frown deepened and this time the other did smirk. He did not offer an explanation, though. In stead he pulled out his wand, causing Harry to tense up, which he waved over himself muttering just one word, _Finite._ He put it away again afterward and turned.

“You're a bit old for those”, he pointed his walking stick the box of toys. “Your father's study is downstairs and your mother was a bit of a book worm. Refused to call that room next to it a library, but that's what it was.”

Moody left and this time Harry did hear him moving. Not only did his cloths rustle but his wooden leg made very recognizable sound when he walked.

After a short moment Harry decided to follow. Some sort of instinct told him he could trust that man, even though Harry could not phantom where that supposed knowledge came from.

Moody knew his way around the house. Along the way he pointed out various things, like a hidden door that led to a separate part of the basement where his mother had set up a small potions lab, the dining room, the kitchen where the actual basement entrance was, his mum's _library_ and, finally, the study which they both entered, Moody first.

The room was furnished elegantly but functional. The the thick burgundy red carpet and decorative drapes to both sides of the window where the brightest colors in the room. Shelves containing books and parchments adorned every bit of the walls and were made out of the same ebony wood like the massive desk. A small chandelier, that did not quite fit into the otherwise fairly modern house, hang from the ceiling. On the was some stationery, quills differently colored ink pots and dark green sealing wax.

“The room's a smaller copy of the study in the old manor where James grew up. But after Charlus and Dorea, your grandparents, got murdered he didn't want to return. That's why it looks so different from the rest of the house.”

Moody seemed to have realized the questions Harry had and answered them in his gruff manner before the preteen could even ask.

“Most of all that is paperwork for family business, some of it is purely a financially matter others have to do with the other old families and is either some stiffly social codswallop or of political nature – not that that's it any better.” He grumbled something unintelligible. “The Ministry consists of five major groups. The idiots who usually don't know left from right, the rule stickers who will go after you just for writing the wrong addressee, the honest and intelligent who are pushed into mindless jobs to keep them from improving anything, the mindless and corrupt – if you ever get to meet the Minister you'll know what I'm talking about, and ambitious and cunning and corrupt who are the power behind the ministry.”

Moody looked intently and with both eyes at him. So Harry nodded as a sign that he had indeed understood.

“You're a minor so you can't stay here alone. Those aurors do have to report to their superiors.”

“That's fine with me. I only want to collect my parent's schoolbooks and some family photographs. They can hardly deny me access if they did not allow Gringotts to put it into the vaults in the first place.”

Moody hummed.

“Get what's in there as well.” He pointed at small cupboard-like wooden box that was fastened over the mantelpiece. The cabinet had an ornate crest instead of a door.

“That one should have the Potter Family ring. You can only wear that when you are of age but it should also contain the family grimoire. That's a book about the do and don's of your family and it's history. Better make sure to keep your allies”

Harry was about to answer, but he was interrupted by a sound from the window.

Tap. Tap.

A large brown barn owl sat in front of it. In its beak it held a very thick envelop. A neat calligraphic script spelled out his name, H. J. Potter.

Harry opened the window and was about to grab the letter, when Moody boomed his name.

“POTTER, CONSTANT VIGILANCE.”

Harry almost jumped into the air but pulled his hand back.

Moody waved his wand over the owl and its delivery a couple of times but nothing happened. It took so long that Harry wanted to tap his foot and start questioning.

“It's save. You're expecting a letter from Gringotts?”

Harry ignored the question and just took his letter. There were several parchments inside it. Three of them where held together by Muggle paper clips. He put those aside and read the letter from Grimclaw first.

 

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_as per our agreement we located the small package and looked through its contents. It held a letter explaining the circumstances of your parent's death, along with a copy of their last will. The later one was made shortly after you birth and names Lord Black as your godfather and by default your guardian. It also states that in case of their death you where not to be placed with your maternal relatives. The reading was held back by request of the Chief Warlock in an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot on the 2 nd of November ,1981._

_The letter addressed to you clearly names Peter Pettigrew as their secret keeper. Therefore, it will be important evidence in the upcoming trial of Lord Black._

_We have taken the liberty of informing Lord Fawley about our meeting and the agreement. He is one of the most outstanding barristers. So was his father, who witnessed and validated your parents will. By yesterday evening he had agreed to take immediate actions and obtained permission to visit Lord Black in person. This morning he got Lord Black to agree and sign the agreement. The only stipulation made, was about the payment for Lord Fawley and the goblin fees to be taken from one of Lord Blacks vaults._

_To avoid confusion we left further explication on the attached documents. Please note that these documents need to be filled out post haste._

_Respectfully yours_

_Grimclaw_

 

Harry picked up the three connected sheets next. It was an explanation, stating that the one in the middle was the original and the last one was his copy. Then it went on to tell him where to put his name. But before Harry did that he once more read through the contract just be sure the goblins hadn't altered anything else.

As ink was on his table he took the explanation sheet, turned it around, grabbed a quill and gave it a few tries to see if he could write his name properly. He really needed to get practice with these antiquated writing utensils or get a hold of a fountain pen.

Nevertheless, he managed to sign the paper in all the right places and carefully blew over it to make the ink dry faster. He took notice that the name automatically appeared on the copy and filed that information to review later.

The last parchment turned out to be a letter from Lord Fawley and therefore Harry just skipped over it. He would take time to read it once he got rid of his silent observer. While Moody was not noisily asking questions, Harry had no idea just how much that strange eye could do. Opting for being better save than sorry, he decided not to trust the older man with this.

Sure enough he found an envelop on the desk and put the contract in there and addressed it. The sealing wax was on the desk, but he couldn't find any matches. He started looking, when Moody lost his patience.

“What are you looking for, Potter?”

“Hm, oh.. matches, I guess.”

“What ever for?”

“To seal the letter.” Harry held up the sealing wax.

“Hand me that.” He pulled out his wand again and flicked it to the wax stump. “Do you even know what you are doing.”

“Yes, thank you.” Harry swiftly sealed the letter and gave it to the barn owl.

“This is rather urgent, if you don't mind.” His own snowy owl, that still had no name and had yet to leave his shoulder, shifted her weight and clicked hear beak. Harry took it as a sign of dissatisfaction and tried to placate her.

“Once we find you a name, beautiful, you will probably be send out more than you like. I've got quite a few letters to write.”

“Potter, if you'd quit flirting with you're owl”, Harry turned towards Moody and blinked. “I'm not dump, that was Black's name on that signature. What have you got to do with the man that got your parents killed.”

“With all d..”, Harry interrupted himself. “You were an auror?”

Moody nodded.

With great hesitation handed over the letter from Grimclaw. He should probably speak to Lord Fawley first before he let someone else in on what was happening. But as it stood, the barrister was not here. Then again, an auror was like a policeman, wasn't it? So Moody should know what all of that meant.

In the meantime, the ex-auror's face had turned ashen. Once more he pulled out his wand, lay it flat on his hand and clearly enunciated:

“Point me Peter Pettigrew.”

The wand twirled and then pointed south-west.

“I'll be dammed”, he mumbled as he sank down into one of the seats in front of the desk.

“Would you mind explaining, sir?”

“I arrested an innocent man. At least, if that”, he waved with the parchment, “is true.”

“And that spell, you just used...”

“That's for finding north but if you add a name or an object you can also use it for general tracking, as long as you know what you are looking for.”

“So, what's the downside.”

Moody grinned.

“It doesn't tell you how far it is. There's no limitations to distance. It just shows the points to the shortest.” Moody raised from the chair. He had obviously caught himself again.

“I'm getting in contact with that barrister. He's good, but has no idea about finding and restraining Death Eater. For now, open that and look though it. I'm stacking the most important books on the table in the library.”

That being said, Moody left Harry alone in the study which gave Harry the option to have a closer look on the Crest that decorated the small cabinet. Truth to be told it looked rather exotic. In the center was a small greenish yellow bird that had chestnut-colored flanks and a white ring around the eye. It sat on two crossed twigs or branches of different trees. Both had dark green leaves, one dull the other glossy. Each had at least one blossom and what Harry suspected to be fruits. Underneath was a comparatively large sea shell. The picture was framed by intertwined antlers and other tree branches, which Harry identified to be apple tree, and Ivy. The center piece was crowned by two long black fathers, crossing on top of two fluffier white. The background was what Harry believed to be a round, polished bronze shield.

Overall, it was very colorful and easily the most elaborate crest Harry had ever seen. He could not even begin to imagine how his family had ended up with something like that but maybe there was indeed some explanation – some time in the future.

As the cabinet had no knob or key he lay his hand against it, just to see what would happen. After all, when had moved his thumb over the crest on the pouch it had taken a tiny bit of blood. This time, however, he just got a tingly feeling and then he heard a soft lick. The door had opened.

The inside was bigger than it looked. Though it only held four objects. On the very bottom lay an incredible thick and large book. It reminded Harry a bit of a paving stone and was most likely just as heavy. He doubted he would be able to lift that. On top was, diagonally, a role like the ones he had seen in Baggis Baggage Bags. The other two items were a thin metal ring with several Gringotts keys, along with some others, and a ring which held a pale turquoise jewel that almost shone with an inner light.

Harry placed the tree smaller objects on the desk, even though the role was much heavier than he first expected, and returned for the book. He breathed deeply and reached for it. With a huge effort he managed to maneuver it into his arms and than made for the desk, as fast as possible.

BANG

Well, Harry thought, at least I didn't drop it.

The noise must have startled Moody, for Harry could hear his hasty footsteps.

“You all right there”, he asked standing inside the door.

“Yeah, just got my hands on a bit of light reading”, Harry joked and pointed at the grimoire. It's cover held the same crest as the cabinet had but on top and on the very bottom where silvery letters, or was it runes. Harry could not read it, that much he knew. On the parchment tube he found similar signs. Both looked like molten silver and completely free of any tarnishes.

Moody openly frowned.

“The Potter family is old, but not that old. It wasn't even added to that bloody book in the thirties.”

“I would hardly know about that.” The preteen commented as he opened the book and flipped over the first few pages. “How am I supposed to read that anyway”, he wondered, accidentally speaking out loud.

“Well Potter, we know what electives you'll be taking then.”

“Electives.”

“You have to chose at least two additional classes at the end of your second year.”

“What are they?”

“Ancient Runes, that's what you'll need if you ever want to read that. Arithmancy is a about magical properties in numbers. I doubt you need Muggle Studies and Divination is just plain rubbish. Either you're a seer or you're not. The last one's Care of Magical Creatures.”

“Did my parents by any chance take that?”

“Which?”

“Runes.”

“Both did. At last till their owls.”

“Then I might as well pack these books, too.”

“And end up in Ravenclaw, wont you?”

Harry snorted.

“You know that you have to return to your guardians? And we might as well hurry, before the Ministry sends another bunch.”

“They can't say anything about me being here. I called my aunt yesterday. I have her permission.”

Moody raised an eye brow as if he knew that he was not telling the entire truth.

“Staying here would be to obvious. The house is to well known, isn't it?”

Moody grunted.

“You got a trunk or something, Potter?”

Nodding, Harry grabbed into his coat pocket and pulled forth the miniature trunk. He sett it on the ground and tapped it, so it would re-size. Moody whistled from where he stood.

“Spend a small fortune on this one. Baggis' work?”

“Yes.”

Harry opened the compartment for his books and they began packing. It took quite a while and Harry had to show Moody the other compartments. With a bit of transfiguration and charms they somehow managed to stuff a good part of the office into the empty room, that Harry had wanted to use for things that did not fit with the other compartments. They kept it to the most important things and packed several big boxes for the goblins to collect and put into the family vault. By three o'clock in the afternoon the house was mostly empty and Harry's trunk had barely enough space for the books that might have been changed. Harry even managed to convince Moody that it would be prudent for him to have his fathers old broom.

At the end of their little house cleaning spree they sat at the kitchen table, the only room they hadn't touched so far. As the charms had prevented any decay. Harry had used what ever he could find and prepared a simple stir fry, using spaghetti and any vegetable he could find. During the cooking he had felt the heavy stare of Moody and just managed to bit his lip before he gave a truly rude comment. Though, the ex-auror had tucked in after a first careful sniff.

In the spirit of shared work, Moody cleaned the kitchen after eating, with the exception of a charmed picnic basket where Harry had put the salvageable groceries – there was little sense in wasting perfectly good food after all. Harry had gone to often without to adapt such a mentality.

Therefore Harry allowed himself a break and sett cross-legged in the former living room in front of the fireplace. In his lap laid the open book, written by Bathilda Bagshot. He was browsing through the index of names in order to find something that might fit his lovely owl. It took quite a bit and the newly named Hedwig had screeched a couple of times at his suggestions, but they finally saw eye to eye on his last choice.

When they finally thought they had everything Moody moved all of the packing cases out the front door with a flick of his wand. Harry's trunk was already back in his coat pocket along with another few boxes, that he did not want in Gringotts.

“Now, lend me that owl of yours. She can make herself useful.”

Hedwig stared greatly unimpressed at Moody but let him tie a piece of parchment to her leg.

“That's for the lawyer”, he explained for once without further prodding. “I wrote that I'll be looking for Pettigrew and of our house cleaning. Your father and his friends were not only a group of troublemakers they also where rather brilliant if the didn't get on everyone’s last nerve, that is. They might hidden something.”

“How do we find that.”

“Don't worry, if Black knows he'll tell. Fawley will not let the Ministry get their hands on the property before it's striped bare of your parents belongings.”

The preteen nodded and left first. Moody closed the door and for the next fifteen minutes started waving his wand over it in complicated patterns. Every so often the wand or door would glow shortly. It was fascinating but Harry had no idea what the older man was doing and when the other finally turned away from the door he looked slightly exhausted.

“Expect another letter from Gringotts. They'll probably be suspicious little buggers as always and demand to know why I'm bringing the boxes.”

“I don't understand why I can't go, anyways.”

“There, still Death Eaters out there. Followers who managed to swindle their way out of prison.”

“Would they dare do something?”

“Pettigrew is a coward, sneaky but still a weak wizard. The others are much more dangerous. They have the means to get away from getting caught.”

Harry hesitated for a moment but decided knowing the answer was most likely safer in the long run.

“Where the Malfoys among them?”

“How do you know that pack.”

“I met Draco Malfoy yesterday at Madam Malkins. He hung behind, when he was done and his father came looking for him. I decided not antagonizing anyone seemed the safest option.”

“The son? If he turns out anything like that father of his. He's slippery. Claimed to be imperiused and somehow managed to avoid taking Veritasserum. He was a Death Eater alright. But he's more out for his own gain. Anything to give him power. And he's also the sort who hates anything Muggle.”

“I'll be careful, but Draco is expecting a letter sooner or later.”

“I don't blame the son for his father but with his upbringing nothing good can come out of it.” Moody's voice held something final in it. The topic was closed for him and Harry excepted.

“Come, I'll drop you of at Bathilda's.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent having tee with the old lady. She seemed lonely and no longer able to look after herself without aid. So Harry remembered his good manners and helped her quite a bit. It was just some basic cleaning, nothing that he didn't do at the Dursley's. Only, for the first time he got a very heart warming thank you for his efforts. He felt a bit, that he owed it to his mother. From the bits and pieces that he got to know about her from the people he had spoken with, he got the impression that that was what she would have done. In the end he stayed until after dinner and left only at quarter past eight. The old professor looked a lot happier, when he left and Harry promised himself that he would visit every time he went to see his parents grave.

His travel back with the night bus relatively uneventful. The bus had just dropped its last passenger before he had flagged it down. And so he got relatively fast back to Surrey as it started to collect some of the nighttime travelers.

Aunt Petunia was not overly impressed when he showed up on their doorstep at nine o'clock on the dot. For once, Harry did not let himself be intimidated and told her straight away that he needed to talk to both of them. Uncle Vernon and Dudley had been watching TV in the living room. When Harry entered the kitchen his uncle seemed even less inclined to talk to him than his aunt.

“I'll make this as brief as possible”, Harry started after waving of Dudley who was contend enough to continue watching the movie and stuffing himself with sweets and pop corn.

“Did you find the letter, Aunt Petunia?”

She handed it to him. Amazingly enough she had kept it all these years, which did not only surprise Harry but apparently her husband had not known either.

“Why did you keep that”, he grunted.

“That's not important. What you have to understand is that I should have never been left in your care.” Harry screened the letter for the signature and sure enough it was Dumbledore’s. “Albus Dumbledore is the headmaster of Hogwarts. And while he may be a very important person in my world because of his achievements he had no right to place me in your care.” Harry carefully circumnavigated the words _wizard_ and _magic_. He wanted their cooperation. The Ministry would be a pain as it was and he had no idea if Dumbledore would try to prevent him from moving out. Sirius Black had spent almost ten years in prison. They could try to declare him unfit as a guardian.

“Now, the person who should be my guardian has been framed for something he didn't do. It was pure chance that the evidence came up yesterday. He was sent to prison without trial. That leaves a couple of possibilities open that a barrister can exploit. Long story short. He'll most likely be free by next summer.”

“Freaks and dunderheads”, muttered Uncle Vernon. “Not even able to follow laws.”

Harry ignored him.

“As I see it, there are only two possible outcomes of that trial. First, his name will be cleared and I'll move in with him. Second, his name will be cleared but he'll be declared unfit to care for me. That means, that either someone will want me to stay here or someone else will try to gain custody of me.”

Petunia pursed her lips, a clear sign that she was dissatisfied with the second outcome.

“The barrister already wrote me and stated that in case of the second outcome he would make sure that you would gain custody. That means you'd be rid of me anyway, as you'll just write me a paper that says I could spend my holidays with my godfather.”

“Will we”, Vernon asked with a hiss.

“You will, because otherwise my godfather would just pop up every day. And there's nothing you could do about that.”

“We'd finally be getting some compensation for having to put up with you.”

“You wouldn't, Uncle Vernon. Taking in an orphaned child of relatives of friends is considered a great honor. Had you treated me like you own son, I, in return, would have been obliged to help should a child of Dudley's get accepted to Hogwarts.”

“No grandchild of mine will ever turn out a freak.”

Harry shrugged. He certainly hoped that would be true. But if his mother had turned out a witch, maybe, somewhere down the line, there would be an other magical child unfortunately enough to be born into this family.

“Vernon”, interjected Petunia. Between the two she had more brains and could see the benefits of writing that permission.

“I'm currently looking into a way of contacting you using the normal post. This way you wont have any owls flying around your house. Speaking of which, my own will arrive here shortly. I'll make sure she stays quite and out of sight. She's needed to keep in contact with the barrister. He also requested that you write down how I came to be in your care, Aunt Petunia.”

With her he needn't explain any further. She just nodded stiffly and got herself some paper and a pen. A few minutes later she handed it to him.

“You're staying until September, then.”

“Yes, the Ministry is...” Harry tailed of but she probably got the meaning anyway.

That conversation was the last time he really spoke with his relatives. For the next weeks he kept mostly to himself if he was not outside maintaining the garden. It would most likely grow wild once he left but that was not his fault. He had always enjoyed spending time there and, therefore, the alternated between reading his new school books, one of his mothers supplementary readings for Muggle raised and pulling weeds out of the flower beds.

Within the first week of his visit to Diagon Ally he had even drafted a carefully worded letter to Draco. He made sure to include as little information about his dealings as possible. Harry was almost sure that Draco's father would read these letters, with or without his son's knowledge. He made sure to keep the conversations inconsequential and light. School topics were one theme he considered save. He even mentioned that he gained more knowledge about holiday's and customs. For the younger Malfoy's shake he compared some of them to their Muggle counterpart or even took the liberty of poking some fun – if only tentatively.

When the first of September finally came around, Harry still had the distinct impression that he was not yet prepared for what was to come. He had made reservations for his trip to Kings Cross on his last trip with the Knight Bus. Hedwig was in her cage this time around. He did not dare to just send her to Hogwarts. What if he did not find the entrance. Lord Malfoy's description had been rather vague.

He arrived at the station shortly after ten o'clock, which left him with almost an hour to find the platform. Logic demanded that it was located somewhere between the platforms nine and ten. Thus he made his way over there. In order to avoid suspicion he had put a thin shawl over Hedwig's cage. As long as the snowy owl kept quiet he could easily claim that he traveled with a parrot or something. His trunk was again shrunk in his coat pocket.

He readied himself for a bit of a wait. Hagrid had not told him, how to get to the platform. Harry guessed that he either forgot, which was entirely believable, or that someone may have been asked to keep an eye out for him. He positioned himself at the main entry to the platform and waited. There had to be other children who lived outside of the Wizarding world and who would enter the platform from the Muggle world. Asking the station staff was out of question. They would declare him mad.

Luckily enough after only fifteen minutes he saw a family approach the the platforms. They had two children with them. The older boy pushed a trolley with two standard Hogwarts trunks that he had seen in Diagon Ally. He was tall and Harry assumed that he was at least fifteen years old. Both children had curly, strawberry blond hair. The girl looked maybe two years older than Harry. But then again, he was not the best example for comparing age as he himself looked hardly older than nine.

On top of their trunks sat an empty owl cage and an other, that held fat tiger striped cat. Their cloths merged with the Muggles around them, something that could not be said for their parents. Both were waring robes that stood out in the mass of travelers. Fortunately they had at least forgone to wear a hat.

Harry tailed them closely to a stone pillar, trying to listen in on their conversation to see if he, indeed, got it right. Sure enough the mother reminded her daughter Marietta that she expected to see an improvement in potions this year. Her brother took the topic a little lighter and reminded her, that she'd only have to take the subject until the OWL's which Harry had found out where a sort of final exam after the fifth year. Marietta, however, seemed unimpressed and whined about having to go through that torture for an other four years and that he had had an easier time because he was a Slytherin. That confirmed Harry's estimations. The girl was a second year and the boy in his sixth or seventh.

Unfortunately for Harry they vanished when they went around the corner of the stone pillar. He had not dared to follow them to closely and now he had lost them. Well, at least he found the entry. He stood in front of the pillar and frowned. Was their some sort of mechanism he had to activate. Did he have to tap some stones with his wand.

Lost in his thoughts he had not heard another family coming around the stone pillar until a voice interrupted his musings.

“Excuse me, young man.”

It was an old woman with the most curious attire he had ever seen. She was wore an emerald green costume. The collar of it had a fox pelt sewn on it. On the crook of her arm she carried a ridiculously large handbag. It was checkered but mostly red. The most outlandish, however, was her hat. On top of the large black piece of clothing, that practically screamed witch, sat some sort of stuffed bird. If the Muggles were not already suspicious of all travelers disappearing on platform nine and ten without ever boarding a train, this would definitely draw their attentions.

And here I thought we were supposed to be discrete.

Harry may as well have spoken that sentence out loud. For it must have been readable on his face.

“Well, Mr. Potter, are you going to get moving or will you let us pass through?” Her tone clearly stated her impatience. She was obviously a woman used to command others around and getting her way.

“I beg your pardon, Ms.” Harry deliberately used the more modern and definitely Muggle way of addressing her, if only to see if it would tick her off. She seemed to be one of those characters that would walk all over you if you so much as gave an inch.

“Where would I pass through?”

She huffed.

“Just turn around and walk straight forward, boy.”

“I think I'll pass. I have no intention of walking into a brick wall, Ms.”

Oh, and now she pursed her lips, just like Petunia always did.

“That's Madam Longbottom, for you, boy.”

“Considering the that during the last two generations our families have been rather close, pleas feel free to address me as Mr. Potter. I take it that I'm right when I assume that you are the mother of Lord Longbottom and, therefore, an acquaintances of my grandfather Charlus.”

By the time Harry had finished his little come back she was pale. The memories he had likely awakened could not have been pleasant. So he turned towards the younger boy standing next to her. He was round faced and, like everyone else of his age group, taller than Harry. There was some dirt underneath his finger nails and on his trousers. Which could mean that he was either very clumsy or maybe he had knelt next to a flower bed. Otherwise he looked quite plump, as if he had never done any sports through out his whole life.

From his mom's diaries he knew that the boy was called Neville. She and his mother Alice had become rather close during their pregnancies. If he had to guess, so had probably been their fathers as they dealt with their hormonal wives and their own blunders.

“Hallo Neville, my name is Harry. I've only recently returned to the Wizarding world but through my mum's diaries I know that she and your mum were friends.”

Harry had opted for the most informal approach. The other boy seemed rather nervous. Had he never met any kids of his age before? Who ever had raised him had done a horrible job at giving him a modicum of confidence.

“Hi”, was the timid response that he got, along with a shy smile.

“So, you're a first year, too? Any subject you're looking particularly forward to?” Harry tried to draw him a bit out of his shell.

“Herbology. I like plants.”

Yes, Harry could believe that. Plants, at least the Muggle plants, didn't have an attitude you'd have to deal with. An they were not bossy, like certain grandmothers. And, not to forget, they were quiet. It was probably an atmosphere that Neville would flourish in.

“You're probably going to be good at that class then. I've never had much of a green thumb.” That was true. The only reason he had appreciated gardening was for the fact that it was outside.

While the boys chatted Madam Longbottom had found her composure again. Harry had subtly kept an eye on her. She no longer looked as pale and when she spoke again a bit of that bite was gone.

“You two can chat all through the train ride. For now lets move on to the platform. Mr. Potter, you are standing right in front of the passage.” She had gotten his jab and started explaining how to go through.

Platform nine and tree quarters was busy with people even though there was over half an hour left before the Hogwarts Express was to leave. The red and black engine was heating up and smoke was slowly raising. In a few more minutes it would be enough to befog the whole crowd.

The first two or three carriages were already full. Students lent out of the window and were chatting with their relatives who had accompanied them to the train. Others were waving friends over to show them their compartment as cats of every color made their way through the peoples legs. Harry saw no need to keep Hedwig in her cage and removed first the shawl and then opened the door. She flew out almost immediately and carefully landed on his shoulder. A satisfied hoot and a short affectionate nip on his ear told him that he had done right by her.

They found an empty compartment in the middle of the train. With some difficulty they had hoisted Neville's standard trunk on board of the train and stored it under the seats. It was to much of a hassle to hoist it up into the rack where Hedwig perched herself. Next to her cage.

“Where's your trunk, Harry.”

“Here.” Harry showed him his shrunken trunk after fishing it out of his coat pocket.

“Oh, that's neat.” Then, as if that had jugged his memory, he suddenly started looking through his pockets. He rashly left the compartment and shortly after Harry could hear him talking to his grandmother. He had lost Trevor, what ever that was. He contemplated helping him search, but the old woman could probably find it much faster using magic that he himself did not know.

“Hey Hedwig, will you watch over our things? I forgot to bring something to drink.”

The bird bobbed her head and focused on the door. Harry left his schoolbag on the seat next to the window and left as well. On his way out he nearly stepped on a toad who had attempted to enter the compartment. Keeping in mind that Hedwig had also hunted the odd frog during the summer Harry shut it out. He found Neville on the platform and said that he would be back shortly and said his goodbyes to Madam Longbottom.

It did not take him long to leave through the iron gate, that had the platform's name written on top of it, and reenter the Muggle part of the station. Curiously enough you could see through the supposed wall and so he just managed to jump out of the way as another family entered. On his way back from the kiosk he overheard another family. Unlike Marietta’s they made quite a bit of ruckus. There were four boys of different ages, a women and a girl who was probably still to young to attend as only the boys had a trolley and a trunk each. The oldest already wore the uniform, minus robes and hat, beneath his opened and worn jacked. He also was the only one to have a pet in form of an owl.

The plump woman was now asking for the platform and the little girl besides her spoke up. She, like the boys, had flaming red hair. It triggered a memory from one of Draco's letters in which he had told him that some families had distinguished features that would be recognizable. Draco had mentioned several families with red hair, though Harry could not recall the names.

They stopped a bit away from the entrance. The oldest boy, whom she called Percy, was the first to run through the barrier. The set of identical twins followed shortly after. When Harry turned around the corner and just slipped through he believed to see her looking at him. It could, of course, have been his imagination but for a moment it was as she had recognized him.

Crossing the barrier, he ran straight into the rest of the boys who probably waiting for the rest of their family. They looked rather puzzled when he showed up instead of their brother, who had just gotten ready to run. The oldest, turned towards him.

“You should not just go running around while your parents bring your brother or sister to the train. They'll be worried.” It was quite clear that he believed Harry to be too young be a student.

Harry stopped and turned around.

“I'm a new student”, he just said and turned to go on.

“Impossible. You can't attend Hogwarts before your eleventh birthday.” Maybe his younger siblings had had a similar argument with him? But that was no reason to go and call him a liar, Harry thought and decided, he definitely didn't like him.

“Fist, I am eleven. Second, even if I was the younger sibling of someone already attending Hogwarts, my parents could have asked me to do something or given permission, which, third, you as an outsider would not have known, Forth, you are not an adult, you have absolutely no authority over me. Fifth, not that it's any of you business but my parents where murdered ten years ago.”

The twins snickered. Obviously no one ever shut that annoying teen up for Percy currently looked a bit like a fish on dry land.

“Aw, the ickle Firsty...”

“..has bite.”

“If he continues...”

“... we'll get along

“just fine”, they coursed.

Harry's eyes shifted from one to the other as they spoke. He felt a headache coming. Those two would either be a real pain or amusing to watch, if they did not turn out as bullies. But they were likely skilled in driving everyone around them totally nuts.

“We are Fred”

“and George Weasley.”

“But you can”

“call us Gred”

“and Forge.” They introduced themselves and ogled him inquiringly.

Harry frowned at them. He had seen and heard the two as they pulled that trick with their mother.

“You are Gorge”, he pointed at the twin to his right. “And you are Fred.”

Now it was the two who looked flabbergasted. The were apparently so used to be mistaken for the other that it didn't occur to them someone may pay enough attention to tell them apart.

“Stop that nonsense you two. And I'll have you know, that I'm a prefect.” It seemed Percy had composed himself again and stet himself to return the pleasure of a server dressing down. Their mother and younger siblings had turned up sometime in between and he probably felt that someone would back him up.

“Well, than it should be your duty to make the first-years feel welcome. And let me tell you, with that you'll just drive everyone away with your current attitude. I'll certainly find another prefect if I ever need help. You may want to read the handbook of school regulations again. My mother was a prefect and head girl. And the only thing that badge gives you is duties not privileges or the right to look down on everyone else.” As Mrs. Weasley looked like she wanted to give him a piece of his mind for dressing down her son, Harry hurriedly turned towards the twins.

“It was nice meeting you Fred, George”, he turned towards them respectively. “On that notion, you can call me Harry”, and with a last grin towards the twins he left the family towards their own devices.

A short look on the clock over the heads of the crowed told him that the train would be leaving in ten minutes. When his view turned downwards again he spotted a family with blond hair that stood out in the mass of people.

The Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy looked just like he had on their first meeting and Draco seemed to make a big effort of emulating him. The only woman in the group of three must be his mother. Harry recognized that Draco got some of his softer features from her and as he approached them he also saw that her eyes were gray and similar to Draco's. Or was it the other way around?

“Good morning Lord Malfoy.” Harry had startled the man slightly as he had come from a direction not in his field of vision.

“Good morning Mr. Potter. Allow me to introduce you to my wife. Narcissa Malfoy.” He turned towards his wife. “Narcissa, Harry Potter”, the _as I'm sure you recognized_ was left unsaid.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Malfoy.” Harry decided to go with the most polite way of greeting that he knew. Like with her husband he thought better safe then sorry.

“It's nice to finally see who is behind the name that has my son so excited.” The answer surprised Harry somewhat. He had expected her to be just as cold as Lord Malfoy but apparently his assessment was wrong.

“Draco as written quite a bit about his family.” Again he opted for the polite version. For while his first letters had contained a lot of his fathers views. Harry had managed to coax him to give his own answers. Therefore, he ended up hearing his acquaintance almost swoon about his own mother.

Nevertheless, she seemed to understand like only a mother could. Her face may have remained almost expressionless but her eyes twinkled in amusement.

Harry turned to Draco, not giving him a chance to greet him first. He had found out a tidbit of information and wanted to see Draco's reaction.

“Hello cousin.”

The blond did not disappoint. He lost his composure and looked at his parents for help. He had clearly not known that.

“Cousin”, he croaked.

Lord Malfoy's eyelid twitched. If Draco's letters were to be believed he had just gone against everything his father had ever taught him about maintaining their reputation. Harry grinned. Mission accomplished. Moody would be proud of him. Breaking Draco slowly away from the hold his father and his views, would most likely take years but then again, they would be attending Hogwarts for the next seven.

“Your mother was born a daughter of the most ancient and noble house of Black, just like my paternal grandmother, Dorea Potter.”

“You must have done a lot of research, Mr. Potter. Draco told me that you were only informed of your true heritage this summer.”

“I've a lot to catch up and I doubt I know everything I should but growing up in the Muggle world is not all that bad. At least I'll never expose myself as a wizard because I don't know anything about it.”

“Are you saying, Mr. Potter”, Lord Malfoy intruded on the conversation. “That Muggle Studies should become mandatory.”

“If it's taught by a competent teacher, it may be an idea worth considering but only if the school governors finally include an extra course on Wizarding customs and traditions.”

“A competent teacher?”

“Yes, like someone who has actually lived in the Muggle world as an adult and go to know their culture and technological advancements.”

“A Muggle-born then.”

“Actually, Draco told me about squibs. If I understood him correctly they can not get a proper education or work here and most live among Muggles.”

Narcissa shot a sharp look at her son.

“Then he must have also told him, that they are usually not spoken about.”

“Yes, but as children most of them would have grown up like any other child with a natural understanding of the Wizarding culture. So, who better to teach about the Muggles than a squib. A Muggle-born would take many things for granted that a squib who had to adapt would not.”

“I see.” Lord Malfoy said. Still, he seemed rather uncomfortable with the topic. “Going with your argumentation. Would you suggest a witch or wizard with Muggle upbringing to teach about our customs?”

That was a trick question. Harry could feel it.

“That depends.” He chose the only way out he could see. “If said person lives all of the traditions there's nothing wrong about it. But normally Muggle-borns do not learn about them. If they do, than it's by trial and error. ”

“A pure-blood then.”

Harry just resisted shaking his head violently. It was not all about pure-bloods and Muggle-borns.

“Not necessarily, no. It would probably be best to have two teachers for the same subject. Someone raised only in the Wizarding world would probably not understand why Muggle raised children struggle with some of its views.”

“The idea certainly has its merits, Lucius. Hogwarts doesn't practice the old holidays anymore and even our children forget their upbringing. It would definitely lead to less blunders committed in social gatherings.”

“Yes dear, I coincide.”

Harry felt like laughing. It seemed that even Lord Malfoy was whipped when it came to the demands of his wife.

A shrill whistle put the end to their conversation. It was the first warning. In three minutes the train would leave. Lady Malfoy ushered them to the next door.

“Where's your trunk, anyway”, asked Draco.

“On the train, I've been here for an hour. Yours?”

“With friends. We found an empty compartment. Want to come?”

“I've found my would be godmother's son. I want to get to know him a bit. But I'll come by later.” Harry looked at him apologetic.

“Who is it?”

“Neville Longbottom.”

“Oh,” It seemed that Draco knew about the shy boy but he didn't say something else. In stead he turned to his mother. “Mother, do you know how close we are related to each other.”

“You are third grade cousins once removed”, she answered with a tiny smile on her lips. “Now, do me proud, Dragon”, she whispered as she bowed to his ear and gave him a short hug.

Both of them just made it on the train as the door shut automatically behind them. They split up to their respective compartments. Draco sat further at the end. While this was the wagon Harry and Neville had found their place in.

When Harry entered the compartment he found himself face to face with two girls. One of them was blond with pig tails, the other was a redhead, though not as fiery as the Weasleys'. Neville, however, was missing. Hedwig still sat on the rack, so it was at least the right compartment.

“Hello”, he greeted.

“You've got a beautiful owl there. But it's very protective.” Harry was not sure if the redhead meant that as a compliment or a complain.

“Hedwig is also very intelligent.” He answered if only to see how she would react.

“Hm, she only started screeching when someone would sit right next to your bag.” She giggled a bit. “Hannah tried sitting at the window but she wouldn't let her.”

Hannah's already pink face became red as she blushed. The color stood out especially against her blond hair. She pulled a face.

“Oh, shut up Susan.” But there wasn't much bite in it. “Neville is still looking for Trevor. An other girl with big front teeth and bushy hair is helping him. I didn't get her name, though.”

“Hm, so you are Susan and Hannah.” Harry pretended that their little banter was their way of introducing themselves. “I'm Harry.”

Both girls seemed embarrassed and hurried to greet him properly.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Susan Bones and this is my friend Hannah Abbot. We've known Neville for years and he said we could sit with you.”

“He said that your mothers knew each other.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Harry assumed that Neville had already given his full name so he did not bother with it. “My mum's diary said that she and Alice got to know each other in school.”

Susan looked scandalized.

“You can't just go reading other peoples diaries.”

“How else would I get to know my parents”, answered Harry confused.

“You should ask them. A diary is something very privet. How would you feel if someone was to read yours”, Hannah added.

Harry frowned.

“But my parents are dead.”

“Oh, my... I'm sorry”, Hannah apologized and Susan had an understanding look in her eyes.

“I'm sorry. I should have realized.”

“Didn't Neville tell you my name?” Harry was puzzled. Maybe the Wizarding world had never gotten their hands on pictures of him. It would certainly be a relieve and would make it a bit easier to make friends. With a bit of luck it would take a while until it was common knowledge that he attended Hogwarts.

Understanding dawned in Susan's eyes. She shock her head.

“No, he didn't. He just said that he met a new student..”

“He gave Susan and I your description, though. Black wild hair, glasses, green eyes, very thin and rather small.”

Harry bristled. Of course he was short, how could he not be. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

“So, why should have Neville told us your name?”

Susan and Harry shared a look. Harry knew, that she knew. But she hadn't said anything, so she probably would not in future. She just shock her head again and turned to Hannah.

“It's not important. Really.”

After that the conversation turned towards their upbringing and subjects that they liked. When Neville still hadn't returned after almost an hour Harry got worried.

“I heard Neville say that he lost Trevor. Could it take that long to look?”

“Harry, Trevor is a toad, and this train is huge.”

“I still don't understand why he keeps it.”

“You just don't like it because it once somehow managed its way into your pocket, Susan, and ate your Frog.”

“A toad shouldn't be eating chocolate. It completely destroyed the card and it was Beatrix Bloxam, too.”

“Frog? Chocolate? Card?” Harry definitely did not understand what the girls where talking about.

“Ah, give me a moment.” Hannah started searching through her stuff. “Here you go.”

“Thank you”, Harry said and tentatively took the little slightly odd shaped box.

Both girls looked eagerly at him, a strange smile on their faces.

“You know, you're supposed to eat that.”

He readied himself for something very odd. It couldn't be too bad, if a toad had managed to eat and survive it. They also said that it contained chocolate and chocolate was never bad.

He opened the box.

For an odd moment he saw a frog made from chocolate in all its detail before it suddenly jumped. Only his sharp reflexes, honed from years of dodging his uncles fists, enabled him to catch it before it would have jumped out of the open window.

“That was a good one”, Hannah commented.

“Good reflexes”, came from Susan.

“They really only ever get one good jump, than the charm wears off.”

“The chocolate tastes really good, too. It's better than most that you can buy in the Muggle world.”

Harry stared at his hand that still held the Frog. It had stopped struggling against his grip. But what he thought most atoning – besides the amazing detail the Frog was formed with – was that his fingers did not stain, yet. Muggle chocolate would have already started melting.

It did melt however once he had bitten the head off – inside his mouth. And Harry was hooked. He loved chocolate, that was of course when ever he had managed to sneak a piece from his aunts watchful eyes, which was not often. The girls giggled has Harry sat there with closed eyes almost moaning. He would have to come out as a cupboard chocoholic.

“Is all chocolate like this?”

“There's a shop in Hogsmeade, that sells the highest quality chocolate in Britain, the Honneydukes”, answered Susan. She lowered his voice conspiratorially and stage whispered the rest: “They even do owl orders.”

“Oh no”, Hannah groaned. “Don't tell me you're another chocolate lover. The best parts about the Frogs are the cards.”

Harry blinked owlishly at her while Susan burst into laughter. Then he looked at other hand. The flat side of the box, was not only the opening but Harry could see a picture and a name written beneath it. He pulled out the whole card.

“Bowman Wright”, he read.

“I already have that one twice”, Hannah threw in.

“Me to, but I've only got it once.”

“The backside has information about the witch or wizard. All of them are famous. And some of the cards are more common then others.”

“1492 to 1560; Inventor of the Golden Snitch?”

“Oh, the snitch is one of the balls from Quidditch. It's the smallest and fastest. And extremely hard to see. The seeker must catch it to end the game and it also means his team gets a hundred and fifty points”, explained Susan.

“Hm, it sounds like an interesting game. However, I should probably look for Neville. He seemed awfully shy. I don't want anyone picking on him.”

“How will you do that? You don't know where he went to?”

“That's easy, Susan.” Harry flicked his wrist and his wand appeared in his hand. He laid it on his flat hand and spoke clearly in a commanding voice. “Point me, Neville Longbottom's toad Trevor.” The wand took a moment, than he pointed towards the front of the train.

“That's damn useful.”

Harry just grinned at Hannah and left the compartment. He found the toad, or rather the compartment it was in, one wagon away. Judging by the voices the students were a little older than him. So he knocked. An older boy, blond with a badger on his pullover and a black and yellow stripped tie stepped out. He was very handsome and probably got much attention for his looks. Harry guessed him to be thirteen of fourteen.

“Can I help you.”

“I'm sorry for intruding. My name's Harry and I'm looking for a lost animal. It's a toad and belongs to Neville Longbottom.”

“What's it Ced”, Harry heard someone say from within the compartment. Seconds later the door was open. “Aw, a Firsty. What does he want?”

Ced, if that was his name, sighed. He maneuvered the other boy back inside and asked if someone had seen a toad.

“How do you know it's here?” Asked one of the two girls that was sitting here. She, too, was what Harry believed to have identified as Hufflepuffs. Therefore Harry repeated his little charm.

“A Ravenclaw, if I ever saw one”, commented a boy who sat at the window.

“That's not even in the first year books”, added the second girl who had the second window seat.

“Well lets have a look under the seats. Maybe it's behind the trunks.”

With a bit of effort they looked first under one row of seats. No Trevor. When they pulled out the trunk from the other side, where the girls sat at each end, they had more luck. One of them nearly shrieked when Trevor jumped on the seat. Harry quickly squeezed himself past Ced and grabbed it.

“Sorry, he mumbled. But he has a bit of a taste for Chocolate Frogs.” He pointedly looked at the unpacked Frogs in her lap and left the compartment – easily as Ced had stepped out again.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Why isn't your friend looking for his pet.”

“Oh, he is. I think he already started in King's Cross. But when he didn't come back I got worried.”

“You two may have gotten it wrong, you know”, said the boy who had been silent thus far.

“What would they have gotten wrong?”

“Oh, they are guessing which first-year will end up in which house”, he answered Harry.

“Ah, so they guessed it would be Ravenclaw because the charm was not what a first-year would know.”

“You got it.”

“Why did you contradict.”

“Be cause most Claws are not overly helpful when it comes to getting involved. They would usually just point you towards the information that you need and than leave you to puzzle it out yourself. Tell me, are you going to look for your friend? Neville, was it?”

“Yes, to both. Though, I may drop the toad off first. By now Neville is probably at the other end of the train.” The boy turned to the others.

“I say he'd make a pretty decent Puff.”

Harry frowned at him. He, a Hufflepuff.

“I doubt it. Hufflepuff was loyal and hard working, wasn't it?”

“That, and we help our friends out when needed”, said Ced who had taken his seat in between the girls again.

“You don't like hard and earnest work then”, the girl next to the door asked.

“Now, that's a trick question. I don't mind hard work as long as the topic holds my interest.”

“You'll get those classes too. History is especially boring”, said the boy visa vi from Ced who had come after him.

“Those who do not know History's past mistakes are doomed”, Harry quoted. It had been one of the librarians favorite. When ever he had hid himself from Dudley and his gang she had forced some knowledge down his throat. Some had even stuck.

“I say he's a Claw all right”, spoke up the boy from the window seat.

“And he's to much of a goody to shoes for Slytherin even if he has ambition”, piped up the girl on Ced's left and Harry's right.

“So, Harry, you are going to find Neville?”

“Yes, might as well be better if I take the toad with me.”

“Why not leave it at your compartment.”

“Oh, Hedwig could watch him all right. It may even prove profitable if I let her. I doubt that he would escape again.”

“And just who is Hedwig”, asked the girl from the window wearily.

Harry grinned diabolically.

“My owl.”

“Hey man, you've got a major mean streak there” said the quiet boy on his left, next to the door. The others laughed.

“Is there a problem”, interrupted a self-importand sounding voice Harry would have recognized anywhere. He allowed himself to pull a face, as Percy would not be able to see it. But it was inevitable that he would recognize Harry from the platform.

“Hello Percy, it's all right. There's nothing wrong here.”

“Hello Cedric, are you sure that this boy...” Harry interrupted him before he got further.

“This boy, has a name, as I am sure your mother has told you by now”, he threw the older boy the iciest glare he could manage. It probably wasn't all that effective due to his short high but that wasn't the point.

“After all, she recognized me due to how much I resemble my parents. Was she told to watch out for me and show me how to get on the platform?” Yes that was a bit of rude speculating but the older boy annoyed him, greatly.

“That's no way to speak to your betters, Potter.”

“Would you like a repeat performance?” Harry did not wait for an answer. “First, the only thing you can be considered is older. Second”, but Percy just left before he could really go into it and Harry left it be.

“Someone really needs to remove that stick from his”, Harry's ranting got interrupted.

“Potter”, questioned Cedric weakly and the preteen groaned.

“Well, yes.” He turned around looking at the blond looking rather sheepish.

The second boy to his left burst out laughing but caught himself quick enough.

“Well, that solves it then. Slytherin it is. Nicely done.”

“If you don't mind. I'd rather keep it quiet.”

“That wont work”, said Cedric who, too, had recomposed himself. “They announce your full name during the.. eh.. sorting process.”

“Well, there goes that hope. I had counted on keeping it under wraps.”

“Sorry, but you'll find out your true friends sooner or later anyway”, said the blond. Cedric had gotten why he wanted to keep a low profile. “They'll probably know before we even arrive. At least a good portion of the students if you have spoken with the Weasleys. They're a rather chatty bunch.”

“All right, thanks for the warning.”

Harry pulled out his wand again.

“Point me, Neville Longbottom”, and with that he left and dropped Travor of with Hannah and Susan, then he made his way to the back of the train. He was in the penultimate wagon when he saw Neville and the girl with the bushy hair. Not only that he could hear a familiar drawl, Draco. The girl was most likely a Muggle-born and had somehow set the blond off.

“Hello Draco”, Harry greeted loudly and stuck his head into the compartment. “If you don't mind, I'll take these two out of your hair.”

“Hair”, questioned the blond without further greeting him.

“It's a Muggle saying”, Harry waved him off. “I found Neville's toad, so we are leaving. That's why they were here, weren't they?”

A pug faced girl in sneered at him.

“Another mud..”

“Pansy”, said Draco sharply before she could finish what would have doubtlessly been an insult.

“A friend of you?”

“Harry, these are Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.” Draco did the introductions. “We have more ore less grown up with each other.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Everyone, this is Harry.” Draco deliberately omitted the last name, of that Harry was sure. “And Pansy, if you want to be technical about it, Harry would be at least a half-blood. He's my third grade cousin once removed.”

Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at him and gave Draco an additional imploring look. He would ask later a bout it.

“All right, I'll come by later, if you don't mind.”

Draco shock his head and stood up.

“I may as well come with you, and Longbottom. The train ride lasts all day and that's more than enough time to just sit around.” He closed the door behind him.

“Well, Neville, who's your friend”, asked Harry, as they slowly returned to the middle of the train.

“I'm Hermione Granger.” Her voice was somewhat bossy and the girls' description was correct. Her front teeth were not only rather large but crooked, too.

“Have you really found Trevor? How?”

“Yes, he's with Hannah and Susan. They're taking care of him and even promised not to give him any more Chocolate Frogs”, Harry teased. “I used a charm to find him. Which reminds me, why haven't you asked an older student to help you?”

“We didn't think of it and some were rather rude. Speaking of which. It is rude not to introduce yourself, you know.”

“I know, then again, Draco introduced me to _everyone_ ”, Harry shrugged. You were sanding in the door with me, so you did hear my name.”

“So you're Harry no-last-name.”

“Hardly”, Draco drawled. “Everyone has a surname.”

“So, what's Harry's?”

“Has anyone ever told you..”

But Draco never got to finish that. They had just entered the corridor of the next wagon when a red haired boy caught up with them.

“Have you heard”, he asked, without even bothering to introduce himself. “Harry Potter is on this train. I've even seen him on the platform.”

The dark haired preteen nearly groaned. He was smaller than Hermione so he hid a bit behind her. The taller first-year hadn't seen him yet but Harry had easily identified him as the youngest Weasley. If he was anything like Percy they'd get along like an polar-bear in the Sahara or a pop-cycle in summer.

Hermione's eyes lit up in recognition but she bit her lips. Then she pointedly looked at Malfoy and stood directly and very close in front of Harry, facing the new comer.

“Yes, we heard. But he's not at the front of the train. Some of the older students said that he may be intelligent enough to hide. I heard he was raised among Muggles. Being suddenly famous would make anyone run for cover. By the way, it's rude to intrude on a conversation without so much as apologizing or introducing.”

Harry was still slightly bewildered as to what Hermione was up to but Draco seemed to have caught on.

“Don't bother asking, Granger”, his voice was free of any contempt that he may held for here and rather polite. He did sneer at the redhead though. “You can recognize most of the old magical families by prominent features in appearance or profession.” He continued in a slightly more lecturing modes.

“The fine specimen of very rude example would be a Weasley. The more prominent features are fiery red hair, a lot of freckles, mostly dressed in either hand me downs or self made cloth, and fare more children than they can afford to care fore.”

Well, Harry was admittedly speechless. That was incredibly tame for Draco. When the blond had written him about other old families he had gotten a ten inch long rant solely on the Weasley family.

The bushy haired girl didn't know that though and gaped at Draco, who just stared pointedly at her. When she didn't react immediately he non to gently stepped on her foot. That did the trick and Hermione closed her mouth again.

“Malfoy”, hissed the red head.

“Is there something you want?”

“Neville, come and give me a hand. I can hardly go into the boy's toilet and help James wash out his eyes. Really, shouldn't you have thought of your allergy to cat's before getting on the train. Or at least when you saw them on the platform.”

Hermione stirred a slightly slack-yawed Harry to the other end of the corridor always keeping herself directly behind so that he wouldn't be that visible. When they had reached the toilet the girl told Neville to see if someone was in and then shoved both boys in.

“She's brilliant”, whispered Neville.

“She is, unfortunately she doesn't know that the sorting ceremony includes calling everyone by their whole name.”

“Well, that sucks.”

Shortly after they heard a knock and Draco saying that Weasley was gone. The quartet made their way towards Harry and Neville's compartment. Even Hermione tagged along and stayed for quite a while. She was mostly curious as to why he had not given his last name and now Hannah, too, learned that Harry was actually the famous Boy-who-lived.

The blond girl forgave him almost instantly, after hearing their little story about meeting the youngest Weasley. She asked the brunette how she had managed to keep herself together and they all got some more information about Hermione's childhood. She had apparently once met a Muggle celebrity on the street when she was much younger and pointed a finger in her direction. When she and her parents got home she had gotten the longest scolding ever. She admitted that she had almost been as rude as Weasley, even though the street had separated them.

Even though Susan was rather frosty towards Draco they managed to chat amicably among the six of them. The two guests stayed until a round lady with a trolley full of different things showed up and asked if they wanted some. Harry had stood up immediately. He did not really want many sweets but asked the others if they had brought something with them Neville, Susan and Hanna confirmed and Hermione had a sandwich in her compartment. Draco denied, he had just brought some money. So he asked for six cups and tree bottles of pumpkin juice, three pieces of cauldron cake and some Chocolate frogs. He stopped Draco from buying himself a whole lunch, as he wouldn't need it and send Hermione for her sandwich. Both were rather puzzled but the blond seemed to trust him enough to follow his lead.

Harry went out into the corridor and enlarged his trunk. From the large compartment he brought out the picnic basket and then put his trunk way. When he reentered the other four looked stunned.

“Where did you get that from”, Draco asked.

Harry just grinned. He wouldn't give away his trunk. It may come in handy at a later point.

“Trade secret.”

The blond grumbled – until Harry unpacked the sandwiches and fruits.

They shared among each other by cutting everything into even pieces, using the Tupper boxes as make shift plates. Draco, Hannah, Neville and even Susan got a crash course on Muggle picnics. Which was a bit odd, as they were sitting in a train but they seemed to enjoy it non the less. They finished their dessert with half a piece of cauldron cake. By that time Harry's left over food, which he had feared he would have to throw away, was gone.

“I'm stuffed”, groaned Hermione.

“Why did you have so much food with you anyway”, Hannah wanted to know.

“That bread was delicious. I've never eaten anything like it”, added Susan.

“You've never been on the continent? They have bread like that over there”, Draco commented. “But I've got to admit that I've never had one that was this fresh. You made it yourself, I presume.”

Harry nodded.

“Last night. When they were sleeping. Took hours to get the smell out of the kitchen.” Harry was to content to think straight otherwise he would have never said that much. Unfortunately Neville and Hermione caught it.

“Why would you do that. Shouldn't you be.. I don't know.. sleeping at night?”

“It's not that easy, Neville.”

“So you just sneaked into the kitchen at night.”

“Granger, before you go on, take a good look at Harry and tell us what sets him apart from Longbottom and I.” Draco stood up and pulled Neville and Harry along with him.

“Well, Harry is shorter, than both of you. He's even shorter than me. And he's much more slender than Neville. Take of that robe Malfoy.” Draco complied and stood behind Harry.

“Hm, he is really thin, isn't he?”

“Well, if you are done”, Harry grouched. He did not like being stared at intently, as Hermione was doing now. In addition, he was a tiny bit sensitive about his height.

The topic was dropped after this but he implications Draco had made were very clear. They stayed on lighter themes after wards and Harry and Hermione learned to play Exploding Snap and how Quidditch was played.

It was late in the afternoon when Hermione and Draco left. Hannah and Susan had gone to change into their uniforms and Neville and Harry did the same in the compartment. Not all that long after, a female prefect with a blue and bronze tie showed up to tell them, that they should change. Her name was Penelope Clearwater but she left when she realized that they had already done so. They tidied the compartment a bit and put all of the waste in the plastic bag that Harry had gotten from the shop when he got his mineral water.

It was dusk, when the train slowed down and finally stopped at the station in Hogsmeade. Harry opened the window and let Hedwig out. She could fly the rest to the castle instead of being jostled in her cage.

A loud booming voice called over all of the noise the students were making.

“First-years, this way.”

 


	5. Settin in

**Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor**

 

 

_**Chapter V: Setting in** _

The four of them kept together as Hagrid led the first-years in the opposite direction of the older students. The sun had sunk some time ago and made walking the slippery and steep path difficult. It got so dark, that Harry could hardly make out his hand before his eyes and after slipping and tripping for the third time on the cobble stone, he was fed up. Resolutely he pulled out his wand and commanded:

“Lumos.”

That rather nifty spell was somewhere in their charms book. He had come across it upon reading it in his mum's books. The main reason Harry even remembered it was the tiny sarcastic comment written next to it. Apparently his mother had found the Potion's classroom insufficiently equipped with lights.

“Oh, of course”, Harry heard a female voice somewhere in front of him, while the others behind grumbled because they had temporarily been blinded by the light. Then an other wand lit up – Hermione's, if Harry was not mistaken.

The same happened a bit further to the back.

“Hey Draco, give a guy some warning, will yeh.”

Well, that answered the question of who had done it. But the voice of the boy that had complained was new to Harry. Maybe Draco had more friends than just the three that had sat in the same compartment.

With the additional light of three wands, their little hike became a lot easier. Unfortunately it also meant that Neville, who was walking next to Harry, became more anxious. Harry had probably overpowered the charm, as his wand was brighter than the other two. This meant, that some of the trees and bushes next to the path became visible; along with the eyes of stray animals retreating further into the forest.

When they went a round a final bend there were loud 'Oh' and 'Ah'. Their first view on the brightly lit castle was magnificent. Against the dark blue sky, under the light of the first stars, perched on top of a mountain sat Hogwarts – vast castle with many towers and turrets and light. The picture was mirrored in the black and unruffled water of the gigantic lake.

A soft hoot startled Harry out of his admiration. He turned to the tree that it had come from and a moment later a snowy white owl swung itself into the air. Hedwig flew straight over the lake to the castle. She would arrive way before them, as they had jet to climb into the many boats, that were tied to the peer.

“No more'n four ter'a boat”, called Hagrid over their heads.

Soon Hannah, Harry, Neville and Susan sat very still, as they moved across the lake. Hagrid who had a boat to himself was at the front. The little fleet moved without any obvious help, they did not even have rows.

“Heads down”, shouted Hagrid, an unnecessary warning for anyone but him, when they reached a cliff. They went through a curtain of ivy that in part hid a wide opening. When they passed through the dark tunnel it became evident, thanks to the still lit wands and little lanterns on the reeling, that this cave was not man made. It had formed naturally. Only the end, the small underground harbor appeared to be partially artificial. It was probably right under the school.

They climbed out of the boats and clambered up a passage in the stone, coming out at last onto smooth and damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. Their journey ended in front of a big oak door. Where they stopped and Hagrid waited until everyone had gathered around. Than he lifted one of his large fists and knocked loudly three times.

It opened instantly and without a noise. A tall, thin and dark haired witch in emerald green cloths stood on the other side. She had apparently been expecting them. Her eyes were hidden behind rectangular glasses. Though, her hair was beginning to gray and the first wrinkles had appeared on her face, Harry got the impression that he would not want to cross her.

“The firs' years, Professor McGonagall”, said Hagrid and confirmed Harry's suspicion. His mother and father had given great detail in their descriptions of the professors. Obviously, the comments were as different as one could imagine. Lily had made some reasonable and useful observations while James had mostly written about her reaction when ever he and his friends had pulled another prank.

“Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here”, she answered and gave a short sharp look to the students that had lit their wands.

“Nox”, said three voices. Harry could not imagine that they had done something forbidden but could not help to share a slightly uneasy glance with the others.

When they entered the hall Harry had trouble keeping his mouth from hanging wide open. It was big enough to fit the whole Dursley's house in there and still have room left. Flaming torches hung from the stone walls and lit the whole hall. The ceiling formed a beautiful arc with ornaments that were to high up to make out clearly. A marble staircase went up to the upper floors. Several doors and arcs lead from and to the Entrance hall. One was half hidden behind the stairs, framing an other oak door that was currently closed. Another, visa vi to the entrance, had no door in it. Harry could see the steps leading down into the dungeons. The biggest, however, held a set of huge double doors.

Harry could hear the other students from there. They must have arrived faster then themselves. He half expected that they would join them but the Professor led them to a small side chamber. They had to stand rather close together, much to close for Harry's comfort.

“Welcome to Hogwarts”, she greeted them. “The start-of-term banquet will start shortly. Before you can take your seats with the other students, however, you need to be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is considered to be a very important ceremony. While you are attending Hogwarts, your house will be something like a family. You will attend classes together with your house mates, sleep in your house dormitory and spend your free time in it's common room.”

Harry raised his hand but the transfiguration professor was not yet done.

“The four houses are Gyffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has it's own history, each has it's own honorable traits and each produced outstanding witches and wizards. During your time at Hogwarts, all of your deeds can either earn or loose your house points. At the end of the year the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope that you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. Yes?”

Harry saw a short glint of recognition, but as she had not asked for his name he did not volunteer it.

“Where are we to spend time with friends from other houses? And what happens if we do not get along with our house mates?”

“While the Hogwarts rules state that you will not be allowed to enter the common room of an other house, you can be invited. However, your head of house has to be asked first and permission will not be granted again should your visit disrupt the other members of the house. If you have trouble with your house mates you can go to one of the prefects. There are six for each house, one of them may be head girl or head boy.”

Harry bit his lip, harshly. This was not some snotty fifteen year old but his future professor. She had probably lived with all of these biased views for a long time and grown up with them or at least used to them.

He raised his hands again and waited for the professor's confirming nod that he could speak.

“Does that mean that we are out of luck if our house mates are as biased as the ones I've met on the train? I mean, what if I ended up in, let's say, Gryffindor and had a friend who's in Slytherin.” Harry chose to leave out his two little run ins with Percy. She was the head of house Gryffindor and had probably chosen this bit head.

“If that should be the case, I would suggest that you visit me in my office then”, she said in a neutral tone but her lips formed a thin, hard line and when no further questions arose she left them to 'smarten up as much as they could'.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses”, someone asked.

“Some sort of test, I think”, answered the Weasley boy. “Fred said it hurt a lot but I think he was joking.”

Harry snorted and looked to Neville, Hannah and Susan. They had overheard that as well. Neville looked pale but Harry put a hand on his shoulder.

“Calm down. The mere idea of any test is ridiculous. We haven't had any classes yet.”

“Harry's right, Neville. No Muggle-born would ever be able to pass a test. They hardly know anything.”

“Besides Hermione you mean, Susan.”

“That just proves my point, Hannah. Hermione is clearly an exception to the rule. It is just not normal how much that girl...”

“Okay, okay, stop it you two”, interjected Harry who saw another of their verbal spars coming. “I take it, that you, too, have no idea how the Sorting is accomplished.”

Both shock their heads.

Harry almost jumped a foot into the air when suddenly several people behind him screamed. He turned around to see if something had happened but was relieved when he just saw some girl pointing at some pearly-white, slightly transparent figures gliding through the room, not even taking notice of the first-years. His mothers description had not done them justice, thought Harry as he observed them conversing.

“Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance”, said what looked like a fat monk.

“My dear Frair, we have given Peeves all the chances he deserves. He gives us all a bad image and he's not even a real ghost – I say, what are you doing all here?”

When the students stayed entirely silent Harry sighed.

“Waiting, we are hardly the first new students that end up waiting here.”

“Ah, that is true”, another ghost chimed in.

“About to be sorted, I suppose”, the fat monk, whom they had called the fair, spoke again. “Well then, I hope to see you in Hufflepuff, my old house, you know.”

“Move along now”, came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice from the door and the ghosts floated away in the direction of the other students.

“The Sorting ceremony is about to start. Form a line and follow me.”

The two boys placed themselves somewhere in the middle. Harry had nudged the girls to the front. Upon their curious looks Harry had calmly pointed out that their surnames started with A and B, so they might as well be the first to be called.

“You know about the sorting”, Neville whispered to Harry.

“No, but I was told the whole name was called. It just makes sense to order them by surname, doesn't it?”

Most students looked as nervous as Harry felt. He was not so sure he liked being sorted in front of the entire school. There were to many unknown factors that could go horribly wrong. Of course he had studied as much about the Wizarding world as possible in order to get an understanding of what others expected him to be like. He was also very sure that he did not want to fulfill half of these expectations, if not more. But what he could hardly ignore was the fact, that he was pretty much a pure Slytherin – growing up with the Dursleys had ensured that. Unfortunately most people would expect him to be a Gryffindor, like his parents. He could probably hope for Ravenclaw. If his parents diaries were anything to go by Lily would have fit there rather well.

Harry desperately tried to calm himself and mold his face into an impassive mask as the line of students followed Professor McGonagall out of the chamber, through the entrance hall and the double door. However, it was of no use. Even reading _Hogwarts, a History_ had not prepared him for this. To know that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky outside and to see it was definitely a difference. It looked amazing. There had been no clouds, when they entered the castle and by now the sky had turned into a color somewhere between midnight blue and black. Even with all of the floating candles the stars were clearly visible and looked closer than ever. It was hard to believe that the ceiling was there at all.

The students sat on four tables clearly distinguishable by the house colors on the uniforms. The younger years looked rather curious towards the line of students that entered, while the older were more relaxed if not half bored. Harry imagined that the novelty wore of after seeing it five times. They rather observed the tables that were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. It looked stunning and Harry got the impression that it was done to show off the wealth of the Wizarding world. If this had been done since the opening of Hogwarts at least all of the Muggle-borns would have been stunned speechless by all that gold – especially as it was something rather rare in the Muggle world.

The ghosts they had seen earlier were present, too. Frair hovered at one end of the table where all the students with yellow and black ties sat. Hufflepuff, Harry reminded himself. He and three other ghosts stood at the far end from the table where the teachers sat and were the only for ghosts on the ground. The others glided along the walls a bit higher up.

Their procession through the tables stopped in front of the three steps that led to the pedestal where the teachers sat. In front of their table was some space on it and they had placed a small, wooden, four-legged stool there. On top of it sat the shabbiest hat Harry had seen so far. It looked so old, extremely dirty and tattered that Petunia would not have even let it on the grounds before setting it on fire. Nevertheless, the whole halls attention was now on this patched, frayed and dusty object.

For a few seconds there was complete silence. Then suddenly the hat twitched and a moment later the brim opened wide like a mouth and the hat began to sing:

 

_Oh you may not think I'm pretty, but don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find a smarter hat than me_

_You can keep your bowlers black, your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, and I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in you head the sorting hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be._

_You might belong to Gryffindor where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve and chivalry, set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong to Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you have a ready mind,  
Where those and wit and learning, will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use many means to achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap!  
You're safe in hands (though I have none) I'm a Thinking Cap!_

 

Harry had gone white after the verse where the Hat had said that it could read minds and not paid much attention to the rest of the song. But he was startled out of his musings when the whole hall started applauding. On the one hand he was slightly relieved that it was only one object who would be privy to his thoughts. Maybe he could reason with the Hat or concentrate on all the daring things he had done right under the Dursleys' noses. He did not want to spent the rest of his Hogwarts years always answering why he was not like his parents. It would get immensely tiring.

On the other hand he had to keep in mind that he still had not found all evidence necessary for the trial of Lord Black. It just would not do to draw any more attention to it. Telling Moody had turned out to be more of a help than a curse but the former Auror was still looking for Pettigrew. That traitor apparently kept moving, at least at night. And sometimes he would move during daytime as well. In short the scared man was rather frustrated. He had just sent Harry a letter that he had finally located the man in Devon, or more precisely close to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Harry sighed and forced his concentration back to Professor McGonagall who now stood next to the stool, a parchment in her hand.

“When I call you name, you will come forth and sit on the stool. I'll put on the Hat so you can be sorted”, she said and continued without further ado. “Abbott, Hannah”, she confirmed Harry's hunch of the girls being sorted first.

His new friend stepped forward and sat down. Thanks to Harry she was somewhere at the very front and had been somewhat forewarned. They all waited in silence again, but it only took a short moment and the brim of the Sorting Hat opened again.

“HUFFLEPUFF', it shouted and the second table from the right, where Harry had also spotted Cedric earlier, cheered loudly. She gave Harry a small wink, when McGonagall had taken of the Hat and went to sit with here new house where she was welcomed warmly. Frair even waved merrily at her and Harry got the impression that the ghost was was an overall friendly and cheery fellow

“Bones, Susan.”

This time it took even less time before the Hat shouted:

“HUFFLEPUF!”

“Boot, Terry”

“RAVENCLAW!”

This time the table second to the left started clapping and to welcome the first new Ravenclaw. Several of the older students stood up to shake hands with him. Maybe they had known each other before, Harry mused.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy”, went into the same house.

“Brown, Lavender”, however, became the first new Gryffindor which startled the table to the far left into cheers. Harry could see the red haired Weasley twins catcalling and just shock his head at their antics

“Bulstrode, Millicent”, after her became the first new Slytherin. Unsurprisingly the the table to the far right started clapping. Their attitude was, however, more reserved then the rest. Harry guessed that a lot of pure-bloods ended there and all these lessons on proper etiquette diminished their joy a little.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin.”

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Harry continued watching but did not bother to remember all of the names. He would get them soon enough. He did, however take notice, that Draco's friends Crabbe and Goyle were sorted into Slytherin and found himself surprised that Hermione ended in Gryffindor. He could have bet that she would be a Ravenclaw.

“Longbottom, Neville”, was called before him and Harry payed close attention. For some of the students it had taken longer than others. Hermione was one of them. Maybe she had argued with the Sorting Hat and Harry wanted to see if that theory proved true. He guessed that Neville would make a very good Hufflepuff but maybe he was wrong again.

It took indeed a while until the new house of his friend was shouted into the hall:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Neville literally jumped of the stool and could just manage to stop himself from running of with the Sorting Hat. He had told Harry during changing that his father had been a Gryffindor and his grandmother had expected him to become one, too. But he himself also wanted to go their in hopes of becoming a bit braver. So, Harry silently cheered with his friend and the Gryffindors as they clapped.

“Malfoy, Draco”, was the next name to draw Harry's attention. But this time the Sorting was over before the Hat sat completely on Draco's head.

“SLYTHERIN!”

That left Harry with only two more students among the waiting that he had already met on the train. One was the girl that had sat with Draco, which probably meant that he should keep an eye out for her – if only to not make an unnecessary enemy. The other was Weasley and the only reason Harry would pay attention to him was to avoid him later.

“Parkinson, Pansy.”

“SLYTHERIN”, shouted the Sorting Hat shortly after.

Next were a set of Indian looking twins that curiously ended up in two different houses. The first was a Ravenclaw, the second a Gryffindor. Harry assumed that they were treated much more like individuals instead of a package deal which may have led them to grow up with different values. They were followed by “Perks, Sally-Ann” who became the forth Hufflepuff girl and then came the dreaded call of his own name:

“Potter, Harry.”

Instantly murmurs started to go through the hall. Harry took a moment to exchange short but all saying looks with his new friends. All five of them, yes, even Draco looked at him with a bit of pity, though the blond somehow managed to pull of looking rather smug at the same time. He was accosted by his other year mates who had just understood that they had already been introduced tho Harry on the train. The Weasley twins on the Gryffindor table looked just as dumbstrucked as them, and the Hufflepuffs around Cedric had all putt a bit of money on the table. They had apparently gone through with their betting pool, as a tiny stack of bronze Knuts sat on the table, waiting to be collected by the winner.

Harry breathed in deeply and made his way to the stool. There was no use in delaying the inevitable. All eyes were on him as McGonagall placed the Hat on his head and thankfully then everything vanished as the overly large hat slit over his eyes.

“Hm”, said a small voice in his ear that made Harry almost jump from the stool in surprise. “You've quite the head on your shoulders, Mr. Potter. Difficult. Very difficult.”

“Good evening, Sir.” Harry tried concentrating on this sentence to see if the Hat would react. “I apologize but I did not quite catch your name earlier.”

“I should think, Mr. Potter that I introduced myself earlier as the Sorting Hat. What could you have possibly been busy with at that time?”

Oh, no. That was not a question Harry wanted to answer, so the quickly thought back that he did not believe that to be an actual name but just a title.

“Very well”, chuckled the Hat. “You may call me Owin Griffith.”

“You were a human?”

“Why yes. Of course I was. Were do you young people think I get my brains from. There always has to be a source. Magic can do great many things but while it's sentient it is not intelligent in the way humans are.”

“So, who were you then?”

“My, you would definitely fit into Ravenclaw with a quizzical mind like that. I was Godric's mentor and we shall leave it at that. You, Mr. Potter are here to be sorted, not to have an idle chat.”

Well, a boy could try, thought Harry.

The Hat chuckled.

“Slytherin was rather adapt at that too. And I do see great ambition in you. You've got the thirst to prove yourself. There's also a great deal of mistrust towards the headmaster. I say you'd fit in rather well, and your little talent of speaking with snakes wouldn't be feared there.”

“Are you going to tell him that?”

“Oh, no. I'm sworn to secrecy. I can only tell if your intention was to harm Hogwarts. Though, dare I say, you may just bring the needed wake up call and we shall enjoy watching you.”

“We?”

“Oh, Hogwarts and I”, Griffith waved him of. “Now, shall we put you to the snakes.”

“No!”

“And why not?”

“I want some quite years while I'm at school at least. Getting my workload done and making some honest friends.”

“Ah, yes, mustn't overlook your loyal streak and the willingness to put in a lot of effort. But Hufflepuff would probably be to quiet for you.”

“Send me to Gryffindor. Everyone practically expects me to go there. And I wouldn't have to deal with the whole Wizarding world thinking they could stick their noses into my life just because I didn't live up to their standards.”

“Sneaky, Mr. Potter and a valid argument. But that house is rather brash. They'll be the cause of mayor headache, that much I'm sure of.”

“I'll cope. I always do.”

“True enough, but I'm not so sure I should do that to poor Minerva. She already has to deal with the Weasley twins and putting the son of a marauder who has the mind to pull of a prank and get away with it is laying it a bit thick.”

“McGonagall? So the twins are pranksters? Or are they just bullies like my father?”

“That would be Professor McGonagall for you, young man. And no, they tend to harass their family more than others but the other targets are mostly students who have bullied others or just needed to lighten up.”

The image of Percy flashed through Harry's mind and he heard Griffith laugh.

“Well, if you are sure, then better be GRYFFINDOR”, he said shouting the last word into the hall. “Do come for a visit some time, little Slytherin”, was the last Harry heard before the Hat was taken of.

While the Gryffindor table cheered louder than ever Harry ignored them in favor of sweeping his eyes fastly over the Hufflepuff table. He was confronted with an accusing look from Cedric who pointed at the Slytherin table. The other four looked rather sullen to. But the silent boy who had sat next to the door had a huge grin on his face as he collected his winnings. Harry shock his head, shrugged and grinned back.

The exchange didn't go entirely unnoticed if Draco's raised eyebrow was anything to go by. The blond had probably expected him to end up in Slytherin. Though, for obvious reasons he could not just walk over and talk with him now.

“Lunch”, the blond mouthed and Harry nodded back, as he sat down on the Gryffindor table between Neville and Hermione, skillfully avoiding everyone who wanted to shake hands. He only introduced himself to his other year mates that he had not known until now. Lavender, Fay, Lily, Parvati, and Seamus seemed nice enough. Together they watched as the rest of their year was sorted. A little later Dean Thomas and Ronald Weasley joined them.

“Well done, Ron”, congratulated him Percy pompously as the last student Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin and Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll. She went to take the stool and Owin Griffith away. She then returned and took her seat next to a man with long white hair and beard. He looked very old and had blue eyes that shone brightly behind half moon glasses. During the sorting he had sat on the largest chair in the middle of the head table. He was the headmaster, as Harry knew from the Chocolate Frog Cards that he had gotten during the train ride that this was Albus Dumbledore. Now the headmaster had gotten to his feat. He was beaming at his students, his arms wide open like in a gesture that preceded a hug.

“Welcome”, he said and his voice did not sound nearly as old as he looked. Harry reminded himself that Bathilda Bagshot hat told him the headmaster was into his hundreds and a rather eccentric fellow.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!” Here the older students clapped, though not Harry. He could see that Mrs. Bagshot had been right with her assessment but could not see anything noteworthy in it.

“Thank you”, the old man said and sat back down again.

“Mrs. Bagshot was right, he has quite a few loose screws”, Harry muttered under his breath. Hermione elbowed him for that.

“Harry”, she looked rather scandalized. “That's the headmaster you are talking about.”

“What, I just said that I agree with Mrs. Bagshot's opinion and she _is_ the author of _A History of Magic_.”

“Oh, argue later you two. Potatoes?”

“Thanks Neville”, Harry answered absentmindedly while starring rather speechless at the amount of different dishes that had appeared out of the blue. There were things that he had only ever cooked or seen on the pictures of Petunia's cookbooks. And they all looked so delicious and steaming hot. Harry forewent the roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, sausages, beacon and steak in order to try some lamp chops. He had cooked them for the Dursleys but did not get to try. They were to good for someone like him and so Harry had only gotten a piece of bread with some butter an a small slice of cheese. He also tried Yorkshire pudding and tasted his way through all the different kinds of vegetables which earned him surprised looks from the other boys. Though the girls seemed to approve of his choices.

“Harry”, Dean seemed to remember his manners and swallowed before he continued. He was a big black boy, even taller than Ron, though, not as lanky. “Out of all of us, you'd be the last who has to worry about what he's eating. I mean, you're probably the smallest and thinnest in our whole year.”

Hermione and Neville beside him stopped eating. They carefully looked at Harry. Dean's comment probably reminded them of the conversation they had had in the compartment after lunch.

“I'm not worried about my weight. I'm just not good with fatty foods.” Not after growing up like I did, thought Harry bitterly. He would have loved to try some of the more unhealthy things, but he had no intention of spending the first night hanging over the toilet. That was a mistake he had only ever made once when he had gotten to eat some very rich food after being confined to his cupboard for four days with only a little stale bread and water.

“That does look good”, the ghost in the ruff, he had seen standing on the other end earlier, sadly.

“Can't you..?”

“Oh, no. I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years. I don't need it of course but one does miss it, especially if it smells that good”, answered the ghost. “I don't believe I've introduced myself yet. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, at you service.”

“I know who you are”, Ron suddenly piped up with a full mouth, still chewing. “My brothers told me about you. You're the nearly headless Nick.”

“I'd _prefer_ if you would call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy”, the ghost replied stiffly but got interrupted by Seamus.

“How can someone be nearly headless?”

Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed but did not get to answer as Harry decided to put an end to that topic.

“You know, you are extremely rude – both of you”, the smallest of the first-years scolded with an icy glare. “Take a closer look at Sir Nicholas' cloths, Seamus and keep in mind that he was killed almost five hundred years ago. I'm sure you can come up with a few reasons. If not, you can always read _Hogwarts, A History_. As for you Weasley, I can't say I'm surprised after meeting you on the train, considering just who your brother is.”

The ghost gave Harry a surprised look. It seemed students called him by that name quite often.

“Thank”, but again he got interrupted, this time by Ron.

“As if you'd be the one to talk about manners. You even lied about your name when we met.”

Harry snorted.

“I only omitted my last name. I'll not endure poor manners of everyone around me because they want to ogle me like an animal in the zoo. I'm a living person and not some icon or scar”, fumed Harry and continued to eat.

Ron stared open mouthed at him.

“Speaking of which”, Lavender picked up where Harry left off. “Where is that scar anyway, every book say's it's on your forehead. Did you vanish it?” There was honest curiosity in her voice and she did look at him, rather than his forehead. For that Harry decided to answer her question.

“Waterproof Muggle make up.” He grinned brightly.

“They've got something like that”, the girl gaped.

Harry blinked owlishly.

“You're a wizard raised or pure-blood.”

“Pure-blood. The Browns are one of the oldest families, though we've never been a noble house or something.”

“You might want to ask Hermione then. I don't know all that much about Muggle make up and stuff.”

“Hey, don't push that on me. I've never cared for it. Though, there is a lot.”

For the rest of the meal the discussion was mostly about their family background, how they had discovered magic or how they had grown up with it, the most hilarious magical accidents. Though all of them contributed, it be came obvious that Harry kept mostly to himself.

When they had finished the main course. It just vanished and made room for all kinds of sweet deserts. There was ice cream, Jell-O, apple pie, treacle tart and many more things. Once again Neville and Harry convinced Hermione that she could brush her teeth once they reached the dormitories and that she could eat sweets, if she just applied the correct dental care. They got some odd looks but in the end even the bushy haired girl ended up with some vanilla ice cream and strawberries.

The other boys got themselves a second helping of sweets and Hermione opted for more strawberries. In the Muggle world the season for the fruits was already over but they seemed fresh here. Harry, however, was full after his piece of treacle tart and leaned back. For the first time he opted to observe the other teachers sitting at the head table.

He recognized the small Professor Flitwick right away from his mothers descriptions. He just seemed a little older. He sat next to a woman who looked rather earthy. Professor Quirrell stood out with his turban and appeared just as nervous as he had in the Leaky Cauldron. Next to him sat a man, dressed completely in black. He had shoulder length oily looking hair and a large nose. It was crooked and had probably been broken at some point. He was talking lazily with Professor Quirrell but seemed to have noticed Harry's stare. Hard, cold, black eyes returned it.

Harry felt like someone had emptied a bucked of ice cold water over him, with ice cubes. That could not be. He felt a wave of dread washing over him and was under no illusions that he looked probably just as white as the ghost. Both of his parents had described him. His mother much more in a solely character based way. His father however had ranted over the appearance.

“Sir Nicholas, the teacher dressed completely in black wouldn't by any chance be Severus Snape, would he?”

“Why, yes, he is.”

Harry groaned and hid his face in his hands. This were going to be so bloody long seven years.

“Is everything all right, Harry?”

“Yes, Neville, everything's fine.”

Harry carefully peaked in the direction of Professor Snape. The man was still looking at him. Though this time it was not a blank stare. One eyebrow was subtly raised. Harry was not sure if this meant that he was sneering or inquisitive. What ever way it turned out, he hoped that his Potions class was still very far away.

A short, sharp, hot pain shot through his scar and left him gritting his teeth for a moment. It had never done this before. But Harry refused to show to many emotions. So he burrowed his fists in his robes and breathed through it. Tears shot into his eyes and he closed them.

Harry was tired and ready to drop dead asleep when the desserts finally disappeared, too. However, the headmaster rose again.

“Just a few start-of-term announcements, now that we are all fed and watered. The first years should know that the forest on the grounds is off limits to all students. And a few of the older would do well to remember that.” Here his gaze flickered towards the Weasley tins. “I've also been asked by our caretaker, Mr. Filch, to remind you that no magic should be used outside the class rooms. Now, Quidditch trials will be held during the second week of term. Those who are interested should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds for everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry frowned. If some of the older students threw all warning into the wind despite the ban on entering the forest would this not encourage them to try. Sure, some had laughed. It seemed rather irrational to hold something dangerous in a school full of children. That just asked for a horrible accident.

“That's just asking for an accident”, he muttered his last thought out loud. Percy, who had sat close to them overheard him. The red head, too, had frowned. For once it seemed they more or less shared the same opinion.

Hermione looked rather quizzical as well.

“Does he really mean that”, Seamus asked.

“So it would seem”, Percy answered him. “It's odd, because he usually gives us the reason why we are not allowed to go somewhere, like the forest. It's full of dangerous creatures and everyone knows that.” He, too, shot a rather nasty look at his younger twin brothers.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song”, beamed Dumbledore but Harry could not help to notice that each and every other teacher looked very stiff and uncomfortable. The smiles had frozen in place and seemed rather forced.

Dumbledore flicked his wand, as if he wanted to get a fly off the other end. Then a golden ribbon made his way out of it. It floated up over the tables, twisting and turning until it formed a line of words.

“Everyone pick their favourite tune and off we go!”

And the school actually sang, or more like bellowed, while Harry had hastily clasped both hands tightly over his ears.

 

_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, teach us something please  
Whether we are old and bald or young with scabby knees._

_Our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air, dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us things things worth knowing, bring back what we forgot,  
just do your best, we'll do the rest and learn until our brains all rot._

 

When Harry finally saw that the others had stopped moving their lips, he took his hands down. How dare someone call that music, he thought disgusted. It had been noise and chaos. Music, as far as Harry was concerned, was meant to be enjoyed, even if it sounded as pitiful as the funeral tune that the twins had chosen to sing to.

Percy had made his way to the front of the new group of Gryffindors. Some of the older students had already left, as they made their way through the chattering crowd, out off the Great Hall, and up the marble stair case they had seen earlier. Percy lead them through various corridors full of moving and whispering paintings. Harry hardly managed to remember where he had lead them through hidden doorways behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. How where they ever to find their way around here. He dearly hoped for a map, if that would be of any use at all. He could swear that he had seen one of the stair cases moving.

A sudden halt came to their trip when Percy stopped in front of a bundle of walking sticks. It floated in midair ahead of them until Percy stepped a bit closer and they started throwing themselves at him. But the red head dodged them rather easily and stepped back.

“Peeves, a poltergeist.”, he explained whispering. Then he raised his voice. “Peeves, show yourself!”

A loud rude sound, like air being let out of a balloon, answered him.

“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

A little man with a wide mouth and wicked dark eyes appeared with a pop. He clutched the sticks as he floated cross-legged in the air.

“Oooooh”, he crackled. “What do I see? Ickle little Firsties!”

“Go away Peeves or the Bloody Baron will hear about it.”

Harry could not help but snort. Obviously no one had ever found out how to deal with the little troublemaker. Well, no one but one single friend of the Marauders. He had not shared the secret with his friends while in school, but Harry had found his notebook of the school times in his fathers study, along with the other three. He had obviously asked them to leave the books with him when he and Harry's mother went into hiding. _Moony's Mandatory Mischief Making Manual_ , was most certainly a treasure trove. It did not only hold ideas for pranking but it was also filled with all kind of spells and useful knowledge that could come in handy. In addition it held the information on the Marauders Map, which Harry knew had been confiscated by Filch. For now, Harry knew very well how to deal with Peeves.

With a flick of his wrist the wand shot from his holster into the hand. He carefully repeated the movement trice while Percy still argued with the poltergeist. It was truly unlikely, that he would manage to pull of such a difficult charm, but Harry was sure that a simple reminder of the prank played on Peeves would be enough to rain him in. Then he started to hum the melody Moony had hexed him to constantly sing for a whole month, _Panis Angelicus_ , and in correct tune, too.

Neville, beside him, shot him a questioning look, but Harry shock his head. When he had first read about this he had taken great effort to learn the first few verses and the basic tune of that old song. He needed to concentrate.

It worked. Though, not quite as Harry had hoped. In stead of flying away the poltergeist stopped right in front of him. He eyed Harry very critically and then said:

“Peeves will not be hexed to sing this song again.” The words lost a lot of his menace because the little man couldn't help but keep a close eye on the wand that waved in a complicated pattern before him.

“James Potter was not who pranked Peeves.”

Harry interrupted his singing.

“But that doesn't mean that I don't know who did it and how it was done.” The poltergeist staggered back a little. “If you like I can give it a try”, Harry grinned just as wide as Peeves had earlier. “You have to keep in mind it would be my first try, though, I cannot promise you that it'll last a whole month.”

Faster than anyone could keep track their little attacker had gone, including his walking sticks.

Percy gaped. Again. It was probably something Harry would have to get used to.

“H-H-How”, he stammered, sounding like Quirrell.

Harry did not get a chance to answer. A portrait in the corridor made himself known by speaking up.

“Young man, we would all very much appreciate if someone finally rained Peeves in but please do not make him sing that horrible Muggle song again. The last time was more than enough and I speak for all Portraits and ghosts, when I say, we do not wish for a repeat performance.”

“What happened”, asked Percy who probably expected not to get an answer from Harry – which would have been true.

“A student took revenge on Peeves and hexed fore destroying his last chocolate or something similar. That was about twenty years ago, just shortly before his OWL's. The only good thing that came out of it was, that he could not sneak up to someone because the charm forced him to sing loudly all the time. For a whole month we had to endure that dreadful Muggle song the Catholic church had dreamed up.”

Harry bit his lip, That was not quite all that had happened. A second charm had also prevented Peeves from coming to close to living beings. Which meant, when he finally got bored of being alone all the time, he took it out on the portraits and ghosts. Moony had dreamed up a combination of five charms and a couple of runes to make that work which was also why Harry was so sure that he could not replicate it, yet.

Percy shot a final glance to Harry and then continued his way. The others followed him again and not long after they finally stopped in front of a portrait at the very end of that corridor. It showed a very fat lady in a pink silk dress, which just happened to strengthen the effect.

“Password”, she said.

“Caput Draconis”, said Percy, loudly and clearly. The portrait swung open and revealed a round hole in the wall. They all climbed through it and found themselves in a very red but rather comfy common room. It was filled wit cozy looking couches and squashy armchairs that someone had arranged around smaller and bigger tables.

The girls were taken by a female prefect to their dormitory. Harry and Hermione had just enough time to clear up that they would meet here at quarter past six, the next morning. They both were sure that they would need the extra time to navigate the castle. Then Percy lead them up to the boy's dorm.

It was right under the roof, on top of a spiral staircase. They were, it seemed, in one of the towers. If Harry had not lost count the entrance to the common room was on the seventh floor. Five four-poster beds with deep red velvet curtains were aligned along the tower wall. Next to each was a bedside table, big enough to hold some books. Four windows divided the beds from each other. There were no chairs in the room but the thick tower wall allowed for comfortably wide windowsills that were cushioned. A closet with five doors stood on the wall with the door through which they had just entered. Another small door lead into a bathroom.

Their trunks had already been brought up. Well, Harry still had his shrunken in his pocket but instead he found his picnic basket, Hedwig's cage and school bag. At the foot side of his bed at the fare end of the room. Neville's was next to it.

“Hey, did they forget your trunk”, his friend asked, as Harry greeted Hedwig who sat perched on the foot board.

“No, it's still shrunk in my pocket.” He pulled it out and let it resize.

“Wow, what's that”, asked Seamus from the other side of the room.

“It's a multi-compartment trunk. I can't afford to leave anything behind with the family that raised me. They absolutely hate magic and anything connected to it. A standard Hogwarts trunk just doesn't have enough space.”

“Looks cool”, agreed Dean. “But why they hate magic?”

“I don't know.”

Neville who had seen the trunk before was not at all surprised when Harry got out a whole perch for Hedwig and jumped into one of the compartments, where he put the picnic basket in the refitted office. He climbed out a little later coming face to face with Dean, though.

“How does that work.”

“Mr. Baggis said that it's within the laws of wizard space, like with Diagon Alley. He did not explain, in detail but said that it had to do with Arithmancy.”

“What's that.”

“One of the electives you can take in third year”, answered Ron for Harry. “It's got lots to do with numbers and is rather boring.”

“Well, I'm beat.” Harry gathered his pajamas, toiletries, towel and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later he emerged clean and ready for bad. The towel would dry over the free standing heater in the middle of the room. One after another the others followed Harry's example and shortly after the only thing that could be heard in the room was soft snoring.

The next morning came earlier than Harry would have liked. He was still tired as the searched his way through the dorm. Only after taking a shower he finally woke up enough to put his things in order and also wake up Neville. The other boy was not in any better condition.

“Should we wake up the others? It's only six”, he asked Neville in a hushed voice.

“Go and get ready, I'm going to wake them. If they don't get up they're on their own.”

 

In the next few days Harry, Neville and Hermione stuck mostly together. It was only logical to do so, as they shared all their classes and always went to the same places. While it had taken them almost forty minutes to make their way down to the Great Hall, they had gotten faster each time they went, and three minds and pairs of eyes remembered they way faster. Hermione turned out to have an incredible memory but lacked sense of general direction. So in the end it turned out, that Harry and she worked tandem when they navigated the castle. Neville was the mediator between the two. He was shy but the glue in their formation. Harry was pretty sure that the plumb boy was not even aware that he managed to get the other two to protect and guide him. In return Neville turned out to be the most loyal friend one could wish for. He looked over all of their characteristic flaws and forgave them easily enough.

Another good reason for Harry to stick to the other two was to avoid being caught alone by older students. They reacted in a very similar manner to the way the people in the pub had. Harry had been extremely uncomfortable walking the corridors, sitting in the Great Hall to eat and the only girl of them had finally snapped at the whole common room full of older students when they had tried doing their homework on the first evening as the older students pointed and starred at Harry. Ever since most of the Gryffindors left them alone. The bushy haired girl had quite a temper and, if she wanted, a vocabulary that could make a sailor blush. That left them to deal with walking the halls and, therefore, Hermione and Harry had taken to completely close their robes and hide their faces behind their hoods. The two had a similar statue and made use of it. Only Neville and ironically the twins could tell them apart, as Hermione went so far as to research an obscuring charm for their faces and voices.

The classes turned out to be mostly theoretical. They did not get to cast any spells in the first charms or transfiguration lesson. In stead they had went into great length about the theory behind the magic they were doing. It was fascinating but Harry also thought it a tiny bit boring. Harry thought it would just complicate things overly but did not voice that thought. His magic had almost always done what he wanted it to do when he wanted it to do something, but the Professors only ever called it accidental magic. Harry asked Professor Flitwick at the end of the first lesson, if intend and knowing the limitations would not be enough to cast charms even without knowing the charm. He even went as far, as to take out his bottle of water and freeze it by just tipping his wand against it when the Professor argued that for first-years doing something like this was usually a fluke. The tiny man had then kept him back and questioned him intently about what he already knew, obviously believing that he had read ahead. Harry had, but only their course book for this year. Any question beyond that he had not been able to answer. After that Professor Flitwick had given him a slip for the library stating that he could take a charms book from the restricted section for the weekend. It was the written work of a Canadian charms master who thought along the line of Harry's question. It would be a bit advanced but would give Harry a great goal to work towards to.

Herbology, as Harry had expected turned out to be Neville's strongest subject by far and for all her knowledge, Hermione was pants with plants. Then again she was best at Transfiguration and the only one to take usable notes in Defense. That subject had turned out to be a joke. Everyone was disappointed after the first lesson with a terribly stuttering Professor Quirrel. So she was the one to take most notes during that class. Neville and Harry returned the favor by teaming up in History – it turned out to be the only thing to do for staying awake anyway.

They also shared other workload between them. Hermione usually understood the theory in the books the fastest, so she would be helping the boys to get a sound understanding before they started on their homework or when they prepared for class. Meanwhile Harry was the best with argumentative structures and would point out flaws in their essays. Neville took it upon himself to teach Harry and Hermione as much about Wizarding customs as could. He even owled his grandmother for further books from home or advice about topics he should cover. He told them that he was determined to do a through through job, not that he had to do it entirely alone.

During lunch on Monday they had met up with Draco. Well, Harry had, with some help, managed to get his picnic basket basked refilled. So it turned into a big picnic on the grounds by the lake. They had also fetched Hannah and Susan. Draco had brought Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini along.

The later turned out to be the one who had been the one to complain when Draco had lit his wand on the first evening. He was also rather closed minded on anything connected to Muggles or Muggle-borns. It had taken quite a bit to convince him, that he should at least form an opinion based on knowledge to back it up. In the end they could only get him to not voice his insults and keep cordial until he had more facts.

Daphne on the other hand turned out like a much more sophisticated Hermione and the two girls hit right off. It stunned everyone as the Slytherin girl was rather cold to everyone else, so far that she could be called icy. She to admitted to being opposed to bringing Muggle-borns into the Wizarding world. But her main argument was their ignorance to tradition and culture. She seemed rather pleased to discover that both, Harry and Hermione, were eager to learn about the correct mannerism of greeting, writing official letter and a very long list of other things. In turn the two of them made it a point that he pure-bloods should also learn about the Muggle world.

This of course sparked a whole new argument which the strongest skeptics, namely Draco and Blaise, lost when Harry retold his experience on the first of September. They could all easily agree that they did not want to accidentally expose the Wizarding world. So the boys had no choice but to bow to the fact that they could not do magic outside of school and had to learn the very basics as to not stand out to much.

The eight of them even started sitting together during meals, much to the dismay of some rather close-minded older students and year mates. It had started when Harry, Neville and Hermione had just turned up at the Slytherin table during lunch on Tuesday.

“What do you want here”, one of the older students had asked. It was a boy, with a bulky build. He seemed to be the type who had more muscles than brains.

“That is non of your concern”, Harry had answered while removing his hood and the charms and turned to the first-years. He then turned to greet everyone the way Daphne had explained. It was most likely a bit clumsy but he somehow managed to get through the traditional request for a save place to hide from the deplorable table manners of Weasley number six.

For a moment all the Slytherins within earshot hat looked very perplex but then Daphne and Draco had burst out laughing. Blaise, was even amused enough to personally get up and offer a chair to Hermione, who thanked with all formality.

During dinner they were practically dragged to the Hufflepuff table by Susan and Hannah, who had taken up on Harry's and Hermione's way of taking a mickey out of the pure-blood tradition and formally complained about not being invited over for lunch.

Cedric and his friends had become their protectors from any negative responses at that table and when it was time to sit at Gryffindor the Weasley twins had taken up that mantle.

“So, it's only Potion's today”, Harry asked as they all filled their plates for breakfast.

It was Friday and they would have the afternoon off, once they got through the double period. Slytherins and Gryffindors would share that class. The two Hufflepuff girls had had it yesterday, together with the Ravenclaws.

Susan and Hannah shared a look, than the redhead spoke:

“I wouldn't call it 'only'. You've got no idea what you're getting yourself into.”

“Yeah, if not for Draco's quizzing on Wednesday afternoon, Susan and I would have been absolutely lost.”

“You don't think Hermione hasn't made us reread the whole introduction and the first chapter at least twice”, Harry shot back, but their was no malice in his voice.

Draco rolled eyes and Daphne hid a smile behind her goblet while Blaise snorted. They had gotten somewhat used to Hermione always looking for all the answers in a book.

“That might help her. I'm not saying that Professor Snape isn't a good head of house for the Slytherins. But he has no patience for anything that isn't a simmering or boiling cauldron.:

“He nearly had Zacharias in tears. And I know for fact that he has had tutor for Potions before he attended Hogwarts”, agreed Hannah.

“Well, he _is_ the youngest to ever achieve his mastery in potions. It's probably normal that he has very high expectations especially if he uses his own works during his school time as measurement”, Hermione reasoned.

Hannah put a comforting hand on Neville's arm.

“Just remember, that what ever happens that half of your potions grade is theoretical work and try keeping it together.”

Harry scowled.

“Stop that. Neville will do just fine. He knows more about plants and their uses in potions than even Draco.”

Now it was the blond who scowled at Harry.

“If you don't mind than let me propose a curse of action”, Daphne prevented any argument that could have come up. “Blaise and Draco will work together, as will you and Neville. Hermione, let's team up in potions. It's not my best subject but I'm decent in the practical aspect and have brewed some before.”

Harry observed Daphne closely. Pairing them up the way she had done was rather clever. Hermione and Blaise would clash horrible, as would her and Draco. While the blond was more tolerant of her than the other boy, their stubborn personalities would grant a disaster. Hermione was also to bossy to work with Neville. The soft spoken Herbology genius would not be able to learn to become more self-confident in a surrounding that might turn out unfavorable for him. That left them with only two options. If Daphne paired up with him, then Hermione and Harry would have to pair up, which might turn out to be as difficult as pairing her with Draco, though for different reasons.

The bushy haired witch was to much of a rule sticker to actually use the additional notes from Lily Evans' books. She thought it cheating, as they had been written by two different people. Harry had no such qualms and had just started confirming the notes he had found and added check marks with a pencil to keep track. Neville had turned out to be a great source of information for any type of plant and their preparation.

“Professor Snape may be strict but you have to keep in mind that he has to keep his eyes on twenty students and ten cauldrons”, said Draco, as he put his napkin down.

“He's also the only potions master who had no seriously harmed or killed students in his class”, Blaise added his two Knuts. “Also any decent family teaches their children to properly prepare ingredients. Potions is a dangerous subject.”

Seamus snorted.

“You mean, Zabini, any purely magical raised children. I'm half and half and I went to school, just like Harry and Hermione, and I tell you, they ain't teach you anything like it.”

“It's hardly my fault that you and the rest of the _Muggle-borns_ ”, he shot a nasty look at Dean, “don't take any chance to learn all you _desperately need_ to. The Ministry has summer classes.”

Dean just shock his head and prevented Seamus from answering, in stead he did that himself.

“You may think yourself superior, Zabini, but in reality there are a lot non-pure-bloods that are way stronger and intelligent. Look at Hermione and tell me you could come even close when it comes to understanding and learning new theories and Harry is way more powerful. Though, he insists that it was all his mothers doing, when he survived that night.”

Zabini grumbled and shot a glare at Harry. He was probably dissatisfied that a half-blood could be stronger than a pure-blood. But if Harry insisted that it had not been anything that he could have done, that only left his parents. James Potter had been a pure-blood but his mother was a Muggle-born witch.

“You can argue that later, if we do not get moving we will be late and that is not a prospect any of us would be looking forward to”, Neville pointed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate any comments whether you are registered or not. However, I take the liberty to view and read them first. As long as your spelling isn't worse than mine, and they're 'politically correct' I will allow them all. Yes, even those that write that they don't like my story. For those like I, who are non-native-speakers, I recommend to make use of spellcheck.net.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate any comments whether you are registered or not. However, I take the liberty to view and read them first. As long as your spelling isn't worse than mine, and they're 'politically correct' I will allow them all. Yes, even those that write that they don't like my story. For those like I, who are non-native-speakers, I recommend to make use of spellcheck.net.


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